Belonging to Someone
by Kathryn Angelle
Summary: Based loosely on A Sense of Belonging by ArwenAria18. INCOMPLETE--I'm sorry, but this story has been abandoned and will probably never be completed. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: This is...sort of, a fan fiction of a fan fiction. It is ArwenAria18's wonderful story A Sense of Belonging, the beginning anyway, with my characters thrown in. I have a chronic case of Wouldn't It Be Fun If?, and before Aria's story was done I had somehow created these two sisters who wanted in on the action. It's not ABSOLUTELY necassary, but you'll understand what's going on much better if you've already read ArwenAria18's A Sense of Belonging.  
  
And that is how Belonging to Someone came to be; Really it is intended only to entertain myself and ArwenAria18, and while it wasn't originally meant to be a Mary Sue, yes, Rhian does do all the things I would do, and yes, Aria does do all the things ArwenAria18 would do, so sue us. This new author's note is to say that yes, these first few chapters are pretty awful, but I hope my writing has improved as the story goes on, and when it is finished I'm going to come back and revise the beginning. Just so you now.   
  
Notes Pertaining to the Story: For those familiar with A Sense of Belonging, this begins at the point when Aria breaks down after the elves found the body of the drunk, when she had been in Rivendell for (if I got it right) a little over a week. As with ArwenAria18's fic, this whole first chapter has nothing to do with Middle Earth, you're just being introduced to the characters.   
  
Prologue  
  
"...and then he threw it at her, and they all laughed, Erin, even the teacher! I do not think I've ever been so angry, I almost walked out!" Rhian dumped her backpack in one of the kitchen chairs. "I should have. I would have, if I'd thought it would have helped. But I should have anyway. That was over a week ago and I'm still burning over it!"   
  
"People are like that, Rhian."  
  
"Well they need someone to take a stick to them. A big one. Right over the skull. Hard enough to knock some sense and respect into them." Rhian flicked her long black hair over her shoulder, where it hung down her back to mid-thigh. Large green eyes with thick lashes glared at everything as she banged through the cabinets. Throwing stuff around made her feel better. Her nature was fierce and impetuous, with the fiery Irish temper of her Celtic ancestry. Her twin sister Erin was just as fierce, but in a less obvious, quieter way; the two were almost opposite mirror images. Their features were identical, their height was the same, and they both let their hair grow long, but Erin's was pale blonde, and her eyes were gray. The two had never been apart through elementary and high school, until they had been accepted to separate colleges in the same city. So they shared an apartment. A brown tabby cat jumped up unto the table, and Rhian scooped him up. "Off the table Taliesin, you bad kitty." She put him on the floor. "Erin, do you know when Rosie's coming? If she gets here in time I want to take her to see you dance."   
  
Rosie was their six year old cousin, a bright eyed, curly haired red head, whose real name was Rosalyn. "She'll be here any minute. I still have to get dressed." There was a knock on the door. "That would be her. I'll go get my costume on and grab my gear."  
  
"'Kay." Erin disappeared into her room, and Rhian went to answer the second knock. Rosie hurled herself into her stomach with an ecstatic squeal.   
  
"Cuzin 'Ian!"  
  
"Oof! Hiya Rosie." Rhian scooped her up and tossed her in the air. "Hey Jon," she said over her shoulder to Rosie's big step-brother. "How's my favorite new cousin surviving?" The tall nineteen year old grinned. Dark eyed and dark haired, he looked like a younger version of his father, a broad shouldered policeman who was almost as quiet as his son. He'd married Rosie's mother almost seven months ago, and Rosie was instantly his biggest fan, and Jonathan's. Now he reached over to tousle her fiery red curls.   
  
"We're getting on all right. Dad says we'll pick her up in a few hours, if you can stand her chatter that long." Rosie made a face at him, and he returned it in kind.   
  
"We'll live. I'll take our favorite red head to see her cousin dance, how's that?"  
  
"Yeah!" Rosie cried, and squirmed out of Rhian's arms. "Where's the kitty kat?"  
  
Rhian laughed. "Attention span of a butterfly. I think Taliesin is hiding under the couch." Actually he was probably hiding under her bed, but Rosie didn't need to know that. Besides, he might be under the couch. Rosie darted off to look, with a cry of 'bye Jon-jon!' over her shoulder.  
  
"I feel sorry for the poor animal," Jon said.  
  
Rhian grinned. "Me too. See you later Jon."  
  
"Bye. Bye Rosie!"  
  
Erin stood on tiptoe, stretched her arms over her head, hands bent gracefully, and began a slow turn, sliding her right leg out and sinking until her body was parallel to the floor. Her ballet costume was blue and silver; blue leotard with its broad neckline with silver embroidered gauze ruffles pretending to be short sleeves, wrap skirt of blue gauze rippling gracefully past her knees, sparkling with silver embroidery, and slippers of blue satin. Her long blonde hair was twisted up onto her head. Rhian sat cross legged on the floor, and Rosie was curled up in her lap.   
  
Erin had started dancing because her parents made her, just like they made her take gymnastics, piano, and the flute. Erin had continued dancing because she loved it. She still played the flute as well, sometimes accompanying other dancers, but dance, especially ballet, was her first love. Her sister Rhian had been forced into dance too, but she had preferred gymnastics, and then moved on to martial arts. But her passion was music, and her voice was a soft, velvety alto -- Erin sang with a crystal clear soprano, but now she got up from the floor, done with her prep, and called Rhian over.   
  
"Get off Rosie, my legs are asleep." Rosie crawled off and climbed up into a badly worn wing chair. Rhian got up and stretched, wincing at the pins and needles in her legs, and hobbled to her backpack to get her lap harp. She flicked her hair out of the way so she could sit again, on a wooden chair this time. Gently her fingers caressed the strings, and her voice lifted to glide through the sun drenched air.   
  
"Why weep ye by the tide, lady,  
  
Why weep ye by the tide,  
  
I'll wed ye tae my youngest son,  
  
And ye shall be his bride.  
  
And ye shall be his bride, lady, sae comely tae be seen,  
  
Ah, but I she rues, the tears doon fall,  
  
For Jock O'Hazeldean."  
  
Erin slid smoothly through the steps of her dance, the music washing through her and guiding her movements. As her sister's voice faded away, she opened her eyes and realized her hair had tumbled down, swirling around her arms and shoulders. Rhian smiled at her.   
  
"Perfect."  
  
Erin was still in her costume when they reached the apartment, a sleepy Rosie slung over her shoulder, and found Jonathan and his father Bryan leaning against the wall outside the door.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry," Rhian said, softly, so that she wouldn't wake Rosie. "Have you been here long?"  
  
"Not long at all," Bryan told her. He had a deep, warm voice, and a gentle chivalrous nature already evident in his son. Rhian was glad for her aunt; Rosie had been born under...unhappy...circumstances. Bryan meant the world to her, she knew.   
  
"Hang on and I'll open the door...Rosie's stuff is still here." Rhian got the door unlocked, and Erin went in to lay a now half awake Rosie on the couch. Her gym bag was still slung on one shoulder, and Taliesin used it to climb up and drape himself around her neck.  
  
"Hi kitty..." she muttered. Rhian hadn't taken her backpack off either, because she was busy searching for Rosie's purple daisy covered bag...Rosie herself, sitting up and blinking, saw it on the shelf. It looked like she could reach it...not quite...but the shelves were just like a ladder, she could climb ladders...she started up, stretching to reach the bag, when the shelves started to tip...Bryan and Jonathan both turned at the same time, Rhian cried out in horror, Erin caught the edge of the bookshelf...and a large, red bound copy of The Lord of the Rings tumbled down, fell open...and warm golden light spread out from it, reached up to catch Rosie, and then...somehow...gathered Rhian, Erin, Jonathan, and Bryan into it, withdrew back into itself, and... 


	2. Welcome to Middle Earth

Chapter 1  
  
"Ah..." Erin staggered as the ground under her seemed to shift from a level floor to a gentle slope. She was...not in the apartment anymore. She was in a glade, surrounded by trees. Half desperatly, she looked around and found Rhian close beside her, Rosie clinging to her jeans. Did she look as shocked as her sister? "Wha-...Rhian, we..." She sagged to the ground, shaking her head. "What was that?"  
Rhian sat down next to her. "I don't know. Rosie was climbing the bookshelf, it tipped, books started falling off, and then..." She shrugged. Rosie whimpered and wrapped her arms around her neck.   
"I wanna go 'ome. I want Daddy an' Jon-jon."  
"I know sweetie, we do too." Rhian stroked her red curls. "It's all right, don't worry." But it wasn't all right. They didn't know where they were. They didn't know where Bryan and Jonathan were. "Come on," Rhian said, getting up. "We'll find out where we are, and then we'll find Bryan and Jonathan and see if we can find our way home." She swung Rosie up onto her hip, and realized she still had her backpack on. Bound to be useful. Erin had her gym bag too, and she slung it on her shoulder as she rose.   
"Walking is better than sitting here, at least. Hey...is this a trail?"  
"It must be, look at it. Better than nothing. Here Rosie, why don't you walk?"  
  
"Hey Rhian, look at this!" Erin pushed some of the low hanging branches away to reveal a house. It was...well, it was...homely. Homely house. Her sister ducked to peer under her arm. "Remind you off anything?"   
"Oh my...This is too weird." It was exactly how she had pictured it, but...no.   
"Are you lost, ladies?"   
  
Pippin, after Gandalf had taken Aria away to meet with Elrond, had decided to take a walk. He was still angry over Merry's story of what had happened to her, and he didn't pay attention to where he was going; he had looped back around towards the Last Homely House when he heard voices. Two human women, one dark and one fair, and a little red headed girl, with curls like a hobbit. They were all strangely dressed; the dark woman in strange blue breeches, and an oddly made red tunic, the fair one in an even stranger garment of blue and silver. The girl wore a white shirt, and an unusual over tunic/dress of the same blue stuff as the dark woman's breeches. They were like no one he had ever seen! But they didn't look as though they could be dangerous. They might even come from a distant place, like Aria. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Are you lost, ladies?"  
They turned; why, their faces were near to the same! Only their eyes and hair differed in the slightest. The dark one spoke. "I...That is, yes, we are. Would you please tell us the name of this place?"  
"Why, in Rivendell!"  
  
The change in her speech came easily to Rhian; she and Erin had played at lord, lady, knight, and shieldmaiden their whole lives. They could curtsy, dance, speak well and courtly, and recite the laws of chivalry. Their versions, that is. Rhian could also handle a sword of medium weight well enough to fake some skill with it, from some of her drama stients. Now she opted for a slight bow.   
"I am Rhian O'Connor, and this is my sister Erin and our cousin Rosie. If you will forgive my impertinence, sir, may I ask...are you a...a hobbit?" But it couldn't be...  
"Of course! Peregrin Took, at your service." He bowed.   
Erin curtsied, using one hand on the skirt of her ballet costume. "As we are at yours, Master Peregrin." Peregrin...oh why is my memory so fuzzy? I have that book memorized! Erin remembered, vaguely, where Rivendell was- I only used to pour over the fold out map for hours -she remembered rough outlines of what happened; there was the One Ring, of course, and...but she couldn't remember how all the different events she could remember happening fit together. And her mind was completely blank on who Peregrin was...but she was sure she knew.   
"Please," he bowed again, "I am Pippin." Oh. Yes, that was it. "But how did you come to be lost in Rivendell?"  
Rhian answered him. "We do not know. We...that is, it's hard to explain...we're...not from this world. Or...we're from...well, the future."   
Pippin's eyes widened. "You must have come here in the same manner as Lady Aria!"  
"Who?" Erin asked.   
Rhian thought a minute. "Aria...wait! Is she a dark haired girl, maybe...this tall?" She held her hand up at a height a little lower than Pippin's.   
"Yes! You know her?"  
"Well...I know of her. I don't think she knows me. She's here?"  
"Yes, with Gandalf and Elrond."  
Erin's eyes grew big, and she mouthed the names at her sister. Those names she remembered.   
"I...I see," Rhian said faintly.   
"Come," Pippin said. "I think perhaps you should meet with them as well." He grinned at Rosie, who was staring at him with huge green eyes, one thumb planted firmly in her mouth. "Come walk with me, little maid," he told her, holding out a hand. She took it, thumb still in mouth, and he led them through the trees and up to the door of the Last Homely House.   



	3. The Unwritten Story

Chapter 2  
  
"Aria! Come and see who I have brought!"   
They were in a wide, open room; a strange sort of room. In her own time, Erin thought it would have been referred to as multi-purpose, but here that didn't seem to fit. All the different things it was used for just seemed to blend and flow together...It gave her an odd feeling. A sense of belonging without belonging; she had felt is since arriving, but in this house it resonated more strongly.  
She let her gym bag slip from her shoulder to the ground as Pippin crossed the room to where three other hobbits were just turning in response to his shout. No- two hobbits and Aria! They followed Pippin to where the two sisters and Rosie stood, near the door.  
Pippin was telling Aria how he had found them. "They say they're from your world, and don't know how they got here."  
Aria looked up apprehensivly; she wasn't sure what to expect at all. 'Please don't let it be one of them,' she thought, thinking of the cruel tormenters she had left behind...But the first words out of the dark haired young woman were an apology.   
  
"I still should have done something."  
Aria shook her head; they were sitting outside on the steps, waiting for Pippin to return with Gandalf and Elrond. "They just would have done it to you too. It's happened before, whenever someone else tried to stand up for me."  
"Let them do what they like! I don't care. I should have said something."  
Aria shrugged. "There wasn't much you could have done, but thanks anyway."  
They weren't able to continue talking, because Gandalf, with Elrond behind him, had appeared in the doorway. Rhian, Erin, Aria, and Frodo all stood; Merry had a sleeping Rosie holding him down, and the wizard gestured for him to stay put. Rhian bowed, and Erin curtsied, both deeper than before.   
"Ladies," Elrond said, "be welcome here."  
"Our thanks, my lord," Erin said quietly.   
"Guard this young one, Merry," Gandalf said, bending to touch Rosie's fiery red curls, "for we must speak with her guardians awhile."  
  
"You come from the same time as Lady Aria?" Gandalf asked. They stood in a small, quiet room, where two windows opened onto a garden of surpassing lovelyness.  
"Yes sir."  
"When did you arrive here?"   
"Only this day, I think not more than an hour ago."  
"What do you know of how you came to be here?"  
"Not much, not clearly...well, Rosie, the little girl, our cousin, climbed the bookshelf, and it tipped, and...and the books began falling off, and..." she paused uncertainly. "On particular book fell open, and there was golden light all around us, and we were drawn into it...and then we found ourselves in a glade. We walked down what we supposed was a path, until we met Pippin, who brought us here."  
Elrond leaned forward and spoke. "What book was this, Lady Rhian?"  
"It was...oh dear..." She paused. "It was a book about Middle Earth, my lord, that...tells a story, about you, and Frodo, and many others."  
"What was the name of this book?"  
Rhian bit her lip. "It was...it was called 'The Lord of the Rings', my lord."  
Gandalf frowned darkly. "What do you know of the rings? Have you read this book?"  
"Oh, yes, several times, but...Since we came here, I- we- cannot remember it. We know of the One Ring, the names of Frodo, and you. I know the name of Aragorn, and who he is, and I know something of a few others, but everything I know, or think I know, is hazy. It took me some minutes to remember who Pippin was when we met him. And...and I could not tell you, now, how the story ends. I have...forgotten." The wizard looked relieved, somehow.  
"Lady Aria knew something of Middle Earth before she came here; the names of Bilbo and myself, and of Rivendell, but not that of Frodo and his company, or Aragorn. Can she have read this...Lord of the Rings?"  
"I do not think so; in the age we come from, it is a rare and difficult book to find. But I know that she has read another book, that tells the story of Bilbo, and his adventures. I have read it too, and I can remember what happens in it."   
"I see. Perhaps, Lady Rhian, and Lady Erin, you will show us the place you found yourself when you arrived in Rivendell?"  
  
"It was here...I remember the shape of this tree...oh! Erin, look!"  
"I see, Rhian!"  
The whole contents of their bookshelves were spread over the grass, books tumbled over each other haphazardly. Rhian knelt and began gathering them up, murmuring their names as though greeting old friends. "Rose Daughter...Beauty...Deerskin...The Deed of Paksennarion...The Wanderer...The Forestwife...Redwall...The Blue Sword...The Once and Future King...The Book of Three...Over Sea Under Stone...The Last Prince of Ireland...Maire...Taliesin..." She stopped. "Look at this!" she called. "I've found it!" She lifted a heavy red book in her hands, and opened it, but the pages...  
"Is this the book?" Gandalf asked. "But it is..."  
"Blank," she whispered. "The story hasn't been written yet." 


	4. Telling Tales

Chapter 3  
  
"For a little child she weighs a great deal!" Merry shifted the unconcious Rosie against his shoulder. He, Frodo, Aria, and Pippin still sat on the steps, waiting for Gandalf to return with Rhian and Erin.   
"So say you, oh Merry of the Great Girth!" Pippin laughed. "Give her to me then."  
Rosie twitched, then curled up again on Pippin's lap and slept on.   
"I wonder why she sleeps so," Frodo said.  
"I know- I was exhausted after I arrived," Aria explained. "And she is only a little girl."  
"A heavy little girl," Merry put in.   
Frodo turned to Aria. "Do you truely know these two ladies?"  
"Not really, only the elder, Rhian. She would sing sometimes, in front of the students. And she never teased me either."  
Pippin looked up. "She sings?"  
"Beautifully; I'd never heard anything like it until I came here."  
"Aria..." Frodo paused. "Can you tell me why on earth they were dressed so strangely? The dark one, Rhian? wore..."  
"Jeans. Lots of people wear them."  
"Women?"  
"Yes. Everyone wears jeans."  
"And the other, Erin..."  
"That was a ballet costume."  
"Ballet?"  
"A kind of dance, that's very beautiful."  
"I wonder," Merry said, "wether they might perform for us?"  
"I hope so," Aria said.   
"Hope what?" asked Aragorn, coming from the path with Arwen beside him.  
Pippin explained again about finding more strangers in Rivendell, as Arwen bent over the waking Rosie. "And who is this dear child?" she wondered.  
"Rosie, the cousin of the two ladies with Gandalf. She has been sleeping almost since she arrived."  
Rosie blinked and yawned. "Where's 'Ian?" she asked, looking around her. "I want 'Ian an' Erin to take me to Daddy an' Jon-jon."   
"They'll be back soon," Arwen told her. Aragorn smiled, watching them; Aria, catching his expression, looked away, feeling like an intruder.   
  
Rhian, Erin, Gandalf, and Elrond set out to return to the Last Homely House, burdened with books.   
"Lady Rhian," Gandalf said. "When Lady Aria came here, she had with her a paper, listing her ancestry. Do you?"  
"Why, yes, yes I do. In my backpack."  
"May I see it?"  
"Yes, certainly."  
  
When they reached the house, Elrond sent a young elf to have rooms prepared for 'the ladies', and to take the books to them. Rhian looked through her backpack, finding the folder with her geneology papers and giving it to Gandalf before the wizard sent them back out to where their friends waited.   
"There you are!" Pippen cried, spotting them. "And here I thought he'd keep you forever."  
"Not forever," Erin said. "Merely an eternity."  
The hobbits laughed. Rhian lifted her eyes smiling and started when she saw the tall, dark man, and the exquisitly lovely elven woman who held Rosie on her lap. Frodo, seeing her loss, quickly stood.   
"Aragorn, the ladies Rhian and Erin. Rhian, Erin, the Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen."  
The two sisters were getting better at these introduction; the bow and curtsy came easily. The names were familiar; there was something important about these two. But they could not remember.   
"We were just saying," Merry said, "that we hoped you would perform for us tonight."  
"Oh..." the twins spoke and blushed simultaneously.   
Rhian laughed. "Perhaps," she said.   
"'Ian," Rosie said, "I wanna story."  
"Yes!" Pippin cried. "We want a story!" He mimicked Rosie's expressions. "Please 'Ian?"  
"All right," Rhian surrendured, sitting down. "What story?"  
"The Kitchen Knight," Erin said.   
"Not again!"  
"A story of Bradamante then."  
"Erin! Can you think of any stories that don't involve blood shed?"  
"Can't you simply choose a story?" asked Merry impatiently.   
"Sit silently until we have completed the opening ceremonies! Rosie what do you say?"  
"A made up story."  
"There, all right, you heard her. A made up story. Now just you sit quiet while Rosie and I begin the process of Making Up A Story. Come over here, Rosie!" Rosie hopped off Arwen's lap, climbing up by Rhian, who drew a pair of pretend spectacles from her pocket, unfolded them, and perched them low on her nose. An imaginary paper was found rolled up in her ear, and an invisible pen in her hair. "Now then," she said, "first we need characters. Rosie?"  
"A princess!"  
"Very well, a princess..." Rhian scribbled on her imaginary paper. "P-r-i-n-c-e-s-s. What kind of princess?"  
"She's got a sword."  
"Has she now, all right, princess with a sword..."  
"And red hair."  
"And...red...hair. What next?"  
"Dragon."  
"Ah-ha! Good or bad?"  
"Bad!"  
"One bad dragon...what else?"  
"A prince. And his horse!"  
"A prince...and...his...horse. Okay."  
"The horse's name is Carrot."  
"Really? A prince with a horse named Carrot. There. Anyone else?"  
"A troll. The green kind."  
"Green troll. Princess, dragon, prince, horse named Carrot, and a green troll. That should be enough. Where are they?"  
"Camelot."  
"Oh, Camelot is it? All right, C-a-m-e-l-o-t. Why are they in Camelot?"  
"The princess is in the tower..."  
"In...the...tower..."  
"...and the troll is guarding the door..."  
"Guarding...door..."  
"...and the dragon is sitting on the walls..."  
"Dragon...on...walls..."  
"...and the prince is fighting the dragon."  
"Where's the horse?"  
"With the prince, silly!"  
"Oh, yes of course. All right. Now," Rhian turned to her amused audience, "we have a story to tell!" She stepped up onto the first stair, and struck a dramatic pose. "Once upon a time," she began, "in a far away land, there lived a beautiful princess named-" she paused, looking at Rosie.  
"Briyann."  
"Named Briyann, who was the daughter of a great king, his only child and a warrior in her own right." Rhian began to pace back and forth, getting into her story. "She traveled far and wide, seeking adventure, until one day she came to a distant land that was plagued by a dark and terrible dragon called-"  
"Raygen."  
"...who breathed his fiery breath on the fields and withered the crops, unless the king, a sickly aged man, sent out a maiden from the city walls for him to devour. When Briyann rode into that place, she found much weeping, for the king's daughter, a fine lady and true, had made up her mind to go to the dragon and would not be detered. When Briyann had heard all this, she said to the king's daughter 'Let me go to be the dragon's maiden, for my blade is strong, and with the help of heaven perhaps I may slay this foul creature.' The king's daughter agreed, 'But,' she said, 'if you do not suceed and the dragon returns I shall be the one to go and none shall stop me.' To this they agreed, and the next day the king's daughter took Briyann and clothed her in white, girdled about her waist with a silken cord of blood red, and Briyann took her sword in one hand, and a shield bearing the device of a silver falcon in the other, and went out of the city gates alone with none beside or behind her, and before her the dragon. And when she reached the dragon's lair, deep in the mountains, she called for it to do battle with her, or be named a coward." Rhian was completely wrapped up in the tale as she spun it, so much so that she did not notice her growing audience; Gandalf and Elrond had come out of the house to listen, and also an old hobbit and a young hobbit who went to sit by Frodo and Aria. The elves also began to gather, watching the strange young human woman.  
"The dragon Raygen came forth from his cave, fire shedding from his nostirels, to see who would so defy him. When he saw that it was a maid who spoke so bravely, he laughed, and flame spread from his jaws, but inwardly he quaked, for he could see that her heart was strong and brave. He set upon her fiercly, with wing and fang and claw, and the blood of both stained the ground until, with what strength was left her, she cleaved the creature's head from its shoulders, and it fell dead at her feet. Briyann sank down in a faint from weariness, and the next day when she did not return, the king's daughter, thinking her dead, went out of the gates alone as Briyann had done. When she reached the dragon's lair she called out, but there was none to answer her, for the dragon was dead and Briyann dead to the world, though her heart beat yet in her breast. Finally, after some time past, the king's daughter went down into the cave, and found the beast beheaded and Briyann lying still, and mourned her; but then, wait! For Briyann's shield where it lay by her cheek was misted with her breath, and when the king's daughter saw this she rejoiced, and bent to tend her wounds. And soon she was revived and her eyes opened, and she bid the king's daughter to take the red girdle from about her waist and bind the dragon's head with it, that it may be brought back to the city for proof, and that her horse be brought, for she would return home to the land of her birth. This was done, and with much rejoicing was Bryianne given a hero's leave of that country."  
Rhian paused to catch her breath, and as she did she realized that a great crowd had gathered and she stopped, blushing. Elrond stepped forward.  
"A fine story, Lady Rhian."  
"It's not done," Rosie told him.   
"Oh? Perhaps she will finish it for us tonight."  
"If my lord wishes it," Rhian said.   
"He does," Pippin put in.   
"The hobbit speaks truly," the elf lord said, "but first let these ladies go to their rooms and prepare for tonight's feast."   
  
  



	5. The Story Continues

Chapter Four  
The girls were given a room on the corner of second floor, an L-shaped room, with two broad windows letting in red and golden light from the setting sun. A small room beside it was prepared for Rosie. The books that had followed them lined a ledge that ran around the inside wall, and Erin's gym bag lay on a small table next to Rhian's backpack. The walls were a soft blue, strangly painted in varying shades, giving the feel of sunlight water; the two beds, dark wood carved with vines, were draped with sheer, shimmering curtains of white cloth. Two gowns of soft, rippling silk were already layed out; one of brilliant emerald green, the other of delicate sky blue.   
"Lookit!" Rosie called from her little room. For her there was a white dress of soft linen, with a ruffled hem and a white satin sash. Erin put it on her, and Rhian combed out her curls, tying them with another white ribbon. Then she sat on Rhian's bed while the two sisters got ready. Rhian wore the green dress; the sleeves opened at the elbow, and the waist was bound with a slender golden cord. Her hair she brushed out, and wore a gold circlet to keep it from her face. Erin wore the blue gown, similar in style, but girdled with silver. She braided her hair, with Rhian's help, and then a knock sounded at the door. It was Aria, come to fetch them downstairs.   
  
"And now, Lady Rhian," Elrond said, much later that evening, "perhaps you will favor us by continuing your story." The tables had been cleared, and Rhian stood up blushing from her seat between Erin and Pippin.   
"If my lord wishes," she said, echoing her previous words.  
"He does!" said Merry and Pippin, at once and together. There were cries of agreement. Rhian stepped into the center of the room, her look becoming concentrated as the story began to take shape in her mind. Rosie, knowing her role in things, took a cushion from her chair and sat on it near where Rhian stood.  
"I have told already the tale of Princess Briyann and the dragon Raygen, the serpent who was slain by her hand. But I have told only half; now I shall tell you the rest, of the dragon-"  
"Shayam."  
"...and the troll king-"  
"Dreego."  
"Shayam was close kin to Raygen, and when she heard of his death by Briyann's hand she vowed vengeance; she flew northward, to the land of Briyann's father, King-"  
"Arthur."  
"...and besieged the castle-"  
"Camelot."  
"...sitting upon the great gates so that the king and all his knights were trapped hopelessly within. When Briyann returned and heard of this, that her father was prisoner in his own hall, she charged Shayam with lance and spear, raising her shield against the dragon's fire. Shayam for her part fell on Briyann with tooth and claw, until the maiden's blade tore the flesh of the dragon's wing and she retreated. At this King Arthur unbarred his gates and gathered his daughter in his arms, vowing her the most valiant of all his sword-sworn, but lo! even as Shayam tended her hurt she sent for her ally the Troll King-"  
"Dreego."  
"...to come to her aid, for he owed her servitude. He was covered with thick green skin, not easily pierced by blade or bow, and carried in his hand a huge ax, but Briyann, when her eyes fell on him, did not flinch but sent her father and all his company from Camelot, bidding them wait on her time. Such was the king's faith in her that he did what was asked of him, taking all the court into the hills, leaving Briyann alone before the dragon Shayam's wrath and power. Knowing she, wounded still, was no match for the Troll King's strength, Briyann retreated within the castle and barricaded herself within the tall tower, with her bow and sword beside her. Whenever he approached she fired on him from the windows arrows dipped in flame, so that he could not come near. And so for many days they remained thus, until Shayam, healed of her hurts, returned from her place of solitude and prepared to force Briyann from her place in the tower. But before the deed could be carried out, from behind the dragon came a shout of challenge. For the Prince-"  
"Chiarlon ."  
"...had heard from afar tales of a lady as valiant as she was fair, and as true of heart. So entranced was he by these tales that he came many miles across the mountians seeking her, and, having heard from the knights of her father how she held the castle alone, had sworn himself to come to her aid. So now he waited answer to his challenge, and Shayam gave it. In the same manner as Raygen had set upon Briyann, in the selfsame manner of all dragon kindred, she set upon Prince Chiarlon with wing and fang and claw, while he hewed her flesh with the blade of his fathers until the very stones were stained with red, and when night fell both retreated back under the sky shadows. Dreego the Troll King was kept from interfering by Briyann's keen aim, while she also was kept back by his broad ax. And so when the sun rose golden the next day Prince Chiarlon and Shayam met again, and again wing and fang and claw met with ancient steel guided by strong arm and true heart, and when the sun sank that night it was Shayam who retreated first into darkness. While the shadows reigned in the time before dawn, Prince Chiarlon slipped along the palace walls, silently as the stars in their motions above, until he came to the place where Dreego slept on guard. He took from the Troll King's hand his ax, and this he threw into the moat. In the tower above Briyann heard him, and coming to the window saw the Dreego heard him too, for he was waking. She called to Chiarlon in warning, and let loose her bow, an arrow burying itself in Dreego's thick skinned shoulder, scorching the green flesh. Chiarlon, turning just as the sun rose, caught sight of Bryiann in the new light, and saluted her, for never had he seen a lady so fair or so bold, and she responded in kind, before he returned to the gates, to face Shayam for the third and final time. Now new love for his lady guided his hand, and he struck with even greater force than before, so that the dragoness fell back before him, until with a mighty blow he drove the great blade to the hilts in her chest, and she lay still on the stony ground. As they fought Briyann's arrows had kept the vengful Troll King at bay, but now her quiver was empty, and Dreego armed with a thick staff set out to wreck havoc upon her champion. Briyann, seeing this, took up her sword and met Dreego within the gates, while Chiarlon yet remained without, and smote him once, twice across the shoulders before he returned the blows, and this weakly. Again she struck, thrice, until the hideous head came free and rolled upon the cobblestones, and the creature slumped to the ground. And then did she go out of her father's liberated gates to meet with her prince upon the field, and tend his hurt, and send for the king's return."  
Rhian stopped. Rosie, curled up in a red-topped ball, was nodding into sleep quickly.  
"'s a nice story 'Ian," she mumbled.   
"Yes, very nice," Pippin grinned.   
"Nothing like a good story," Merry agreed.  
Erin looked knowingly at her sister. "There's more, isn't there? I can see it brewing in your eyes now."  
"Yes," Rhian admitted. "There's more. But," she added, "I think it will have to wait." She scooped a drowsy Rosie into her arms.   
"'Ian," Rosie said into her shoulder, "where's Daddy an' Jon-jon?"  
Rhian stopped and looked at Erin, her eyes wide. Where were Bryan and Jonathan? 


	6. The Meeting

Author's Note: Yes, it's finally up- Nota Bene, some- er, large portions of text were taken from Chapter 7 of ArwenAria18's story A Sense of Belonging. I've only altered the scene to include my characters. All Hail and Praise to the wonderful ArwenAria...I am very sorry this has taken so long, but it is not entirely my fault. My computer and Marvin (the mobile device I write on) have been refusing to speak to each other. Thanks to any/all faithful readers who have stuck it out with me. -Kathryn Angelle  
  
__________________  
  
Two days after Rhian, Erin, and Rosie had arrived in Rivendell, there was a meeting called by Gandalf.   
  
Gandalf had mysteriously called for a meeting with Elrond, Bilbo, Frodo, Strider, Arwen, some other elf-lords, and a few various strangers who had recently arrived in Rivendell. It was, he said, a matter concerning Aria, and the two young women from her world.  
Merry and Pippin were indignant at being left out. Frodo told them in a whisper that they were needed to keep Aria busy, however; so they acquiesced. Samwise Hamfast's son went with Frodo, though not invited. Sam had only just met Aria the day before, but already had declared to Frodo that she was, "...a most wonderful girl, I'll say, is all. You know, master, how I've always been so tooken with Elves and such, but they're above me, if you take my meaning. This here lady, here, she's more... well, more homelike, so to speak. She's as fair as any of the Elves, though, I'll say." He was forever afterward as devoted a servant to Aria as to Frodo. Of Rhian and Erin, he was in awe of Rhian's storytelling, and Erin's dance (she had been coaxed into a performance by Aria) and he was especially fond of Rosie; "'Tis a fine name, Rosie," he had said.   
The group met in the Hall of Fire. Gandalf faced the rest, alongside Elrond.  
"Friends," the wizard began, "I've discovered something, with the help of Elrond, which could, perhaps, change things drastically.  
"You may have met the Lady Aria, a companion of the hobbits. I have spoken with her on a few occasions, and she is a most delightful young hobbit, harmless in and of herself -" here Frodo began to protest that Aria was no hobbit; but Gandalf stayed him with a lift of his hand, "but it is this that makes her a danger: she is not of Middle-earth, but from a time far in the future."  
Frodo started. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. There was a general murmuring round the table.  
"She does not fully realize, I think, the damage she could potentially do. There is danger whenever the future touches the past. But especially at this crucial time, it is perilous for her to be here. I have long spoken with Elrond, and we have reached no decision as to what should be done.  
"I would ask all your opinions in a moment. First you should know more of her. When she showed me her lineage she had traced, she said that it was of her "birth parents", also that she had been "adopted". The man and woman who raised her were not her true blood-parents, and she had no knowledge of what her real parents or her ancestors looked like.  
"With Elrond's sight and my skill we have traced forward far enough to find that she is half Elf, half hobbit. I would explain to you all the method we used, but it is too involved and would be above the comprehension of most of you, so this must suffice: she is not descended of Men, as she says, as she no doubt believes. She is, in fact, a distant descendant of Peregrin Took."  
There was a silence. Frodo stared. His mouth was open, as was Sam's beside him. They, and a few others, alone knew what this would mean to Aria. Gandalf laughed suddenly. "I will let you tell her. Now Frodo, I would be grateful if you would explain how she came here. It is not a pleasant story, but it needs to be told." Frodo swallowed and nodded, getting to his feet.  
Out of all there, only Frodo, Gandalf, Bilbo, and Elrond knew what had happened. As the others listened, each showed a reaction.  
All the elf-lords gathered glowed white-hot with wrath, eyes blazing steadily as they listened.  
Arwen's eyes widened in horror, and she began to weep silently, and her hands shook.  
Aragorn beside her was grim, with a fell light kindling in his eyes. He twined his fingers with Arwen's and grasped her trembling hand tightly.  
Two dwarves, Glóin and his young son Gimli, sat with their beards bristling and their meaty hands on their axe hilts.  
A tall, silent Man named Boromir folded his arms and set his mouth in a line, closing his eyes. His jaw muscles tightened.  
Legolas, and Elven-prince of Mirkwood, narrowed his bright eyes in anger, his lips white and slightly parted. His handsome face was distorted.  
Sam was shaking from head to foot with barely controlled rage. When Frodo finished and dropped to his seat breathless, Sam cursed loudly and slammed his fist on the table, his normally mild hobbit-eyes shooting sparks. He railed at the dead man with both clenched hands upraised.  
Frodo put his hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam let fall his arms and sat again sheepishly, still angry. Frodo whispered earnestly in his ear, and Sam nodded.  
Elrond stood. Everyone tried to quiet themselves.  
"My friends," he began, "The man is dead, and all you can do is now to make young Aria feel welcome. But I would put this question before you: What is to be done? If she were to change something, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat. We must choose carefully."  
"The danger is too great," Gimli spoke up. "We cannot risk such chances, with the Shadow growing. I would say she should be sent back."  
"I, too, sir dwarf. I am sorry for her, but she could have too large an effect." said Boromir.  
"What harm could she do to our safety if she is nowhere near the shadow-land? There is little she can change in Rivendell," Legolas protested.  
"Trust an elf to think that," Gimli retorted.  
"The smallest alteration could have results unforseen, Legolas," Aragorn said quietly.  
"Is it not unkind to send her away? She is so small. And each of us could make small decisions which cause great and terrible results," Arwen said indignantly. "She is no more threat than anyone here."  
Elrond nodded to her. "You have a point, daughter. However, things must not be disturbed from the course which has been set."  
"But how do we know that she is not a part of that course?"  
Small arguments broke out as many began to speak at once. Then -  
"How could she be sent back?"  
Silence. All eyes turned to Frodo. Elrond exchanged glances with Gandalf. "Go on."  
"Would it not be pointless to discuss which choice to make when we have none?" Frodo looked at the wizard. "Do you know how to send her home?"  
Gandalf smiled remotely. "Well said, Frodo son of Drogo. We do not know how to send her home."  
"Then why in Gondor did you call us here?" Boromir demanded impatiently.  
Elrond met his gaze. "To start these thoughts in your mind. There may be no other course now, but with more thought, mayhap danger will be averted. Beware of letting her sway anything! And yet consider the words of Arwen; she may have come as no accident."  
"And what of the two who came later, Ladies Rhian and Erin?" asked Legolas- he, like Sam, had also been awed by Erin's dance.  
"And Rosie," added Sam.   
"Yes," Gandalf said. "Those two are perhaps more likely to change the course of what will be than Lady Aria. For one, they know something of the Ring," Frodo started at this, but the wizard went on, "for in their time there has, apparently, been written a book the story of the Ring. Lady Aria knew only the adventures of Bilbo; and she remembered them after her arrival here. Lady Rhian and Lady Erin, however, tell me that they can not remember the story of Middle Earth, that their memory is clouded. And there is this-" he laid a hand on the red leather volume beside him. "Lady Rhian tells me that this is the book, but its pages are empty."   
Exclamations and arguments began around the room, about what this could mean, but Frodo ended them by asking suddenly- "If Aria is half hobbit and a Took, what are Rhian and Erin?"  
"I would not be half surprised if Lady Erin had elven blood," Legolas observed.   
"You are right," Elrond said. "Lady Erin and Lady Rhian do have a small amount of elven blood, but predominantly they are of the race of Man. They are descended, we have discovered, from both the race of Rohan and Gondor."  
"How so?"   
"The Stewards of Gondor are part of their line, and that of the Lords of the Mark."  
There were voices outside, and Elrond fell silent- a moment later the window that opened to the gardens showed a view of Merry and Pippin, both on hands and knees pursuing a squealing Rosie. Behind them Rhian, her long dark hair braided and drawn over one shoulder, walked with Erin, who's her hair loose. Rhian had on her jeans, but with a dark green tunic of elven make, brown leather boots. Erin wore a white dress, a silver embroidered kirtle around her waist. The two were talking, their heads close together- suddenly Rosie called to Rhian, and she laughed out loud. She made a running start and suddenly cast herself into a row of four cartwheels. The counsel watched her toss Rosie in the air and catch her. She collapsed in the grass, Rosie on top of her, and began tickling the six year old until she screamed for mercy. Then she got up and took Rosie's hand and began dancing with her, beginning to sing the first song that popped into her head-  
  
" Now my life is rosy...since I found my Rosie...with a girl like Rosie, how could I be blue? Hand and hand we'll mosey, me and little Rosie, we will be so cozy, by a fire, built for two. Oh I once heard a poem that goes; 'Rose, is a rose, is a rose'. But I don't agree, take it from me, that there's one rose sweeter than any that grows and that's my Rosie...I'm so glad you chose me. Life is one sweet beautiful song to me!"  
  
"I can not," Sam said suddenly, "think ill of any of them. Beggin' your pardon, sirs."  
________  
  
That night after dinner, Elrond asked Rhian to sing.   
"If my lord wishes," she said, as always, "but surely Lady Arwen's voice is sweeter than mine."   
"Not so," said one of the elven ladies. "Her voice is her own. I heard you singing in the garden," she added, "and would hear more."   
Rhian stood up, and begged leave to go get her lap harp from her room. When she returned with it, she sat quietly for a moment, then began to play softly.   
"Once, as my heart remembers,   
all the stars were fallen embers.  
Once, when night seemed forever  
I was with you.  
  
Once, in the care of morning  
in the air was all belonging.  
Once, when that day was dawning  
I was with you.  
  
How far we are from morning,  
how far we are   
and the stars shining through the darkness  
falling in the air.  
  
Once, as the night was leaving  
into us our dreams were weaving.  
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.   
I was with you.   
  
Once, when our hearts were singing,  
I was with you."   
  
She let the last word fade softly into the air, shivering. Tears stood in the eyes of some. Aria, looking away from Rhian, caught a look passing between Arwen and Aragorn- a look she had seen before. "Erin sing now," Rosie mumbled. Expectant eyes turned to Erin as Rhian pulled her up by a hand. "Only if Rhian sings with me," she said.   
Rhian left her harp on the chair and stood. Erin began, high and clear-  
"Quando sono sola  
sogno all'orizzonte  
e mancan le parole  
si lo sa che non c'e luce  
in una stanza quandow manca il sole  
se non ci sei tu con me, con me  
Su le finestre  
mostra a tutti il mio cuore  
che hair acceso  
chiudi dentro me  
la luce che  
hai incontrato per strada  
  
Time To Say Goodbye  
paesi che non ho mai   
veduto e vissuto con te  
adesso si li vivro  
su navi per mari  
che io lo so  
no no non esistono piu  
It's Time To Say Goodbye."  
  
Rhian began as Erin's last note faded.  
"Quando sei lontana  
sogno all'orissonte  
e mancan le parole  
e io si lo so  
che sei con me, con me  
tu mia luna tu sei qui con me  
mio sole tu sei qui con me  
con me, con me, con me  
  
Time To Say Goodbye  
paesi che non ho mai  
veduto e vissuto con te  
adesso si li vivro  
con te partiro  
su navi per mari  
che io lo so  
no no non esistono piu  
con te io li rivivro."  
  
Then they both sang, voices high and low blending delicately-  
  
"Con te partiro  
su navi per mari  
che io lo so  
no no non esistono piu  
con te io li rivivro  
con te partiro  
lo con te."  
  
Later that evening, when they were sitting in an upstairs room where a fire was burning- Rhian, with a sleeping Rosie in her arms, Erin, Legolas, Aragorn, Arwen, Gimli the dwarf (across the room from Legolas), the hobbits and Aria, Boromir, Elrond, and Gandalf -the wizard turned to Rhian and asked "Lady, tonight you sang in a language I do not know. What was it?"  
"Italien. A very beautiful language- a great many songs are written in it. It's not," she added, "as old as Gaelic, though."  
"Gaelic? What language is that?"  
Rhian shifted Rosie a little. "The language of my ancestry, the Celtic races. Scotch, Irish. It is not much used in the time of my birth, but it is truly the most beautiful and musical tongue of my world." There was a time when she had thought it the most beautiful of any tongue, but that was before she heard the elves speak among themselves.   
"And do you sing in this language?"  
"Some. My mother used to sing to me in Gaelic, and my father would recite Gaelic poetry. Even if I didn't understand it I loved its sound." She sang softly, a distant look in her eyes. "Ag amhare fe m'oige, is me bhi samh, qau eolas marbh..." She stopped. "I should put Rosie to bed."  
She slipped out.   
  
The stars were shining brightly as Erin walked slowly through the gardens with Legolas- the two had talked all evening, and now into the night. From an upstairs window drifted down the sound of a soft, clear voice, singing quietly to the darkness.   
  
"When the eveing falls and the daylight is fading,  
from within me calls - could it be I am sleeping?  
for a moment I stray, then it holds me completely.  
Close to home - I can not say.   
Close to home - feeling so far away.  
  
As I walk the room, there before me a shadow  
from another world, where no other can follow.  
carry me to my own, to where I can cross over...  
Close to home - I can not say.  
Close to home - feeling so far away.  
  
Forever searching, never right, I am lost in oceans of night.  
Forever hoping I can find memories. Those memories I left behind.  
  
Even though I leave will I go on believing  
that this time is real - am I lost in this feeling?  
like a child passing through, never knowing the reason.  
I am home - I know the way.  
I am home - feeling oh, so far away..."  
  
Author's Note: That song seemed so fitted to this story I had to put it in. It's 'Evening Falls' from the Enya album Watermark. The song 'Rosie' is from Bye Bye Birdy (chosen for that scene because these are songs I sing to the kids I babysit. They like them. Those lyrics were written from memory). The Gaelic song is an exerpt from 'Na Laetha Seal M'oige', also by Enya, also from Watermark. I don't know what it means in English, sorry. 'Time To Say Goodbye (Con Te Partiro)' is by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli. It's from the album Time To Say Goodbye, by Sarah Brightman, and is an absolutely gorgeous song and I love it and my new voice teacher says I'll be able to sing it. (I'm gonna learn Italien, I'm gonna learn Italien!). Yes I know, as my brother tells me; "You have a bad habit of listing things you like in this story." I swear I don't do it anywhere else! Heehee...expect Rhian to spontaneously launch into a one person performance of The Phantom of the Opera (I do this. It drives some people very very crazy). Just kidding, but there is a distinct possibility she'll do a few numbers. I like Phantom. ;) 


	7. Revelations, dances, tumbles, realizatio...

  
Chapter Seven  
  
Lianne O'Connor Williams sat in a police station with her head in her hands.  
"No we didn't have any kind of argument, yes I'm sure he wasn't having an affair, and if he was why would he take three teenagers and a six year old with him?!"  
"Ma'am, these are routine questions..."  
"Is it routine to ask them repeatedly?"  
"If you were to remember something..."  
"I'll tell you, yes I know. Good-bye, Officer, I'm leaving now."  
She opened the door violently and walked right into a wall shaped like a tall black man in uniform.   
"Excuse me." She started to go around him.  
"Ma'am?"  
She paused. "Yes?"  
"I know your husband, ma'am. Officer Williams didn't run off and leave you. There's some kind of reason for his going, I know it."  
"Thank you," Lianne said. "I just wish I knew where he was."  
  
Erin got up with the sun that day- the faintest of mists rested over the gardens below their window, turning the world a silvery gray for a moment. She leaned on the sill and watched as it dispersed slowly. Behind her Rhian was sleeping still- twice during the night she had woken, murmuring Gaelic, and then sleeping again. Rosie too was asleep, curled in a ball with her thumb in her mouth. Erin looked back out the window- the mist was fully gone, and outside the day was already beautiful. She slipped one of the elven gowns over her head and went quietly out.   
A bush, feathered with long slender leaves, and dotted with pale flowers, shielded her from the sight of the other two who walked out early that morning. Catching a glimpse of Aria and Frodo, speaking closely, she drew back, but as she left she heard "-you are half-hobbit, half-elf, not of the race of Men!..." Erin ran through the damp grass, smiling to herself. Rhian had often told her about seeing a lonely girl on the campus, but never coming into contact with her, and without knowing her Erin had pitied her. She had always felt alienated, always disliking pop culture, always dressing different, acting different. Ballet had been her whole world because she belonged there. She had retreated into a place where the skills she had earned respect. Rhian- Rhian had carved a place for herself, still an outsider, but one who made her presence known, bold and strong willed, moving out instead of in. But here, there was no pop culture. No standard she was expected to conform to. Aria hadn't conformed because she couldn't; Erin and Rhian hadn't conformed because she didn't want to.   
She smiled again, rising up on tiptoe and spinning so that the blue of her skirts swirled around her.   
  
In the days and weeks that followed the revelation of Aria's lineage, she became a truly different person, with a sweet, warm nature that bubbled over with laughter. Everyone saw the change in her; and those who watched closely, like Gandalf and Elrond- perhaps also Aragorn, when his thoughts could be turned from the moments spent with Arwen, and the road ahead- but those who watched saw the reserve of the two sisters melt slowly and slip a little. They began to act with everyone else the way they acted with each other, sometimes startling the elves with their behavior- long would the tale be told of the day two human girls chased each other through the Last Homely House, so that the rafter echoed with laughter. Much time was spent with Aria, and the hobbits- Merry and Pippin were now officially Rosie's 'Un'ca's. Erin caught glimpses of what passed between Frodo and Aria, even as Rhian, looking through different eyes, saw the same with Aragorn and Arwen.   
But for this time, there was peace in Rivendell.   
  
Erin made a habit of walking out in the morning. The sun shone brightly, and behind her there were shrieks of "Faster, Un'ca Merry, faster!" and the strange sound that Meriadoc called neighing. She shook her head. Pippin the Pony had already pleaded death as the cause for his collapse, and was goading "Un'ca Merry" on with a switch. Rosie had been doing her best to tug out all of Merry's curly hair, to make up for the lack of reins. Quiet fell as she walked through the trees, and she couldn't help reflecting, again, that this world held more than her own. Rhian, all afternoon, had been debating with Aria, and confusing everyone else, over the American Civil War. She began humming softly to herself, and then to sing-  
  
"Who can say   
where the road goes  
where the day flows  
only time  
And who can say  
if your love grows  
as you heart chose  
only time  
  
Who can say  
why your heart sighs  
as your love flies  
only time  
And who can say   
why your cries   
when your love lies  
only time..."  
  
Her arms raised over her head and she spun, her eyes closed--  
  
--and she stumbled, tumbling forward and falling with an oof against the chest of the man she hadn't seen, sending them both to the ground.   
"Oh!" she gasped, pushing herself up- but halfway she stopped and stared down into his face, which could easily be called "one of surpassing delicate handsomeness." "Oh," she said. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She got as far as her knees before becoming entangled in her skirts and falling again. Legolas' gray-blue eyes laughed good-humourdly at her as he got to his feet and offered a hand.   
"The fault is mine, Lady Erin," he said. "I should have gotten out of your way."  
"Oh- it's all right." Erin felt terribly disoriented and wondered abruptly whether she could walk. She wasn't sure if up was up anymore, and the ground felt distinctly unstable. She and Legolas had talked together already for several hours, and she had decided she liked him a good deal. But now, having literally thrown herself into his arms, she was suddenly in love and uncomfortable with the feeling. Now he bowed to her.   
"Will you walk with me, lady?"  
"Oh...I- I was just going into the house," she said lamely.  
"Then I shall walk with you."  
Erin was silent until they had reached the porch, and Legolas asked a question she could not answer with a nod or a shrug- her legs didn't feel like they were jointed right anymore, and walking required all her concentration. "Do you miss your own world?"   
"Not- not really. I mean," she rushed out, "I miss Aunt Lianne- That's Rosie's mother- and...and I miss my dance studio, and things like, like the corner grocery, and the funny molding in the apartement, but...I sometimes I think I didn't belong there anymore than Aria. Rhian and I- nor I, at least- didn't really have friends...well, we always knew people, but people never seemed to know us, and..." she stopped. "I'm sorry- I'm just babbling now."  
"No, no," he said, studying her. "I think I see something of what you mean. But tell me- don't you miss your parents? You say nothing of them."  
"Oh. Oh-" and she sank down onto the step. "They're dead," she said quietly, staring out across the grass. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "It was...Lianne, Rosie's mother, was- oh...they had gone out together, Mamma and Daddy, and Lianne was Daddy's youngest sister, the only one who lived, and....oh..." she put her face down in her hands and spoke to her palms. "It was night," she said, "night in the city, and...There were two men, and when they tried to-" her breathing caught and skipped and she went on- "Daddy faught, of course he would, but there was only the one, the other was in the shadows, and...and...Mamma was in the way, and they..." a sob slipped past her defenses. "One of those men was Rosie's father," she got out. "They were never caught, but they-" and she began to sob, helplessy. Legolas remained a comforting presence by her side, letting her lean on his shoulder until the crying stopped. "I'm sorry," she whispered, embarrased.   
"Don't be. I thank you for your trust. It will not be betrayed."  
"Thank you."  
She smiled at him, and over his shoulder saw Rhian come from the corner, as Legolas stepped away to let them talk in peace, going into the house. Her sister caught sight of the tear stains on Erin's face and started forward, worry written in the lines between her brows.   
"Erin, are you all right?"  
"Yes, I'm fine. I was just- Oh Rhian!" She drew her sister down on to the step. "I've gone and done it, Rhian."  
  
Author's Note:  
If all goes according to plan, and Jon is a good boy, the million dollar question of 'Where are Jon and Bryan?' will be answered. Sorry to have kept you waiting for it...I had it all set up and everything...but it WOULD NOT be written, and there was nothin' I could do about it.   
-Kat 


	8. JONATHAN!!!!!!

Author's Note: Insert schpiel from chapter fourteen of Wild Roses  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
  
It was morning in the garden of Elrond, where Rhian sat, leaning on a pillar with one leg tucked under her, watching Rosie play tag with her two favorite friends, Merry and Pippin. They had been joined earlier by three of the graceful, fey-like elf children, and, by Rhian's judgement, soon the game would cease to be tag and dissolve into a general mess of tickling and laughter. Rosie's games usually did.   
A footstep on the boards behind her woke her from her reverie, and even as she turned Lord Aragorn sank down on the steps beside her, setting his shoulders against the opposite pillar. He did not look at her for a time, studying instead the chaos on the grass- true to Rhian's mental calculations, Merry now assisted the little red-head in tickling Pippin until he begged for mercy. Rhian's original, breathless awe of the lordly man she had first met had given way a comfortable friendship in which he represented a combination of her father and Bryant, Rosie's father, and now she could call him 'Strider' without discomfiture. The only time she was not at ease with his strong, fatherly presence was when she chanced to glimpse him with Arwen; both Aria and Erin had said that catching such moments made them feel like intruders, and that was exactly it. She thought that Aragorn himself looked on her and Erin as something between a daughter and a niece- after all, she was still a child in age compared to him. It was strange, that while he was so grim and forbiding at times, he could be gentle too. But Arwen treated her as a friend, despite the vast  
difference in their life spans. Only occaisonally did Rhian glimpse the lady's age and wisdom through some observation made as they spoke together, when Arwen's understanding of people- their natures, both elf and human- could be devastatingly insightful.   
Now Aragorn turned to look at her, and she met his gaze levelly.   
"Tell me, little bird," he said -- 'songbird' he had begun calling her, the second time he had woken to hear her singing echoing through the halls -- "when one hears, by chance, something not meant for his ears, should he keep the secret to himself, or let it be known that he is aware to those involved?"  
"I think that, should he truely have heard by chance, he needs to tell those he overheard."  
"Ah, and what if he fears upsetting one of those? Perhaps one he looks on as a friend is hurt by dwelling on what was spoken of and would rather not think of it."  
"Then he should not approach them, but perhaps instead someone close to them, who will be able to judge how to respond."  
"Ah," he said. "No one may accuse our songbird of having nothing in her head but tunes-"  
Rhian's head jerked up. "Who-" she objected, but Aragorn inturrupted.  
"Peace, little one, you have not been thus accused!"  
"Oh..." She blushed.   
"But," he went on, "you were right in your answer to my question. So I will say that some days ago, in this very spot I heard two conversations which I had no right to hear. At least," he amended, "I heard one, and I believe I am right as to what was the subject of the other."  
Rhian's thoughts flew back- "Oh," she said softly. She looked away, to where he could not see her face. "You know then, about-" She couldn't get any more words out- her throat had closed and she felt her eyes sting.   
"Yes," he said quietly. He reached out, laying a hand on her shoulder before getting up and returning inside.   
  
Jonathan stirred- his head ached. There was a roaring in his ears. He rolled on to his side, pushed up on his arm. His back and shoulders hurt too. And he felt...weak. He ran a hand roughly through his hair. Rocks. He was lying on rocks. In what looked like a forest. Managing to get his feet under him, he staggered upright. The rocks were part of a slope downward into a pool, churned into foam by a waterfall- so the roaring wasn't his ears. Good sign.   
When he tried to take a step, his ankle turned under him, and he would have been back where he started if a strong hand hadn't caught his shoulder. His balance returned, and he looked back at his savior.   
Behind him stood a man clad and cloaked in green, but with his hood resting on his shoulders so that Jon could see his strong, stern features, and dark grey eyes. His hair was thick and black, long enough to touch his shoulders, and bound back from his face with a leather band.   
"Do you know where it is that you stand?" 


	9. The Fellowship

Author's Note: Look! Look! It's a new chapter! A nice long new chapter! And half of the next chapter is already written! I wrote all afternoon, looky! Hurrah! Hurrah!   
  
I am TERRIBLY sorry that this is so late, and that everybody's been doing without reviews from me and such- don't kill me! First I was really really busy with the play, and then I was on the drama team for the competition, and then I was AT the competition (I won a gold medal for my interp. of The Tell-Tale Heart, thank you), and then I spent Christmas break sleeping and then being sick. I'm soooorryyyyy! But it's here now! See? And I finally get to see the movie day after tomorrow! Yay!   
  
Chapter 9  
  
"Please, I beg you, let me go! I cannot live without him. At least let me go to die with him. Please, if there is mercy left in heaven!"   
Aria's cry echoed through the hall, jerking Rhian's head up. "What-" She turned sharply towards the sound, in time to catch hold of Aria as she sprinted past. "What is it? What has happened?"  
Aria was shaking with sobs, struggling. "Let me go, let me go, just let me go!" She twisted out of Rhian's grip, running out into the woods. Rhian went quickly to the door Aria had come from, too full of fear for her friend to have any worry of causing offense at her intrusion  
  
Lianne O'Connor stood in the ruins of her nieces apartement. "I wish he would let me clean up, " she said out loud, looking at the splintered boards of the broken shelves. It had been...how long? Months? And the landlord kept saying not to touch anything- she suspected he was really enjoying having a disappearance case in his own building. He was convined it was a kidnapping, or something to do with drugs...She didn't have the energy left to argue with him. She stepped carefully through the wrecked furniture, to the little bedroom behind. There were no clothes missing, not that she could see; she looked around the room. Rhian's bed was unmade, of course, while Erin's was perfectly neat- typical. She half turned to go out again when something on the dresser caught her eye. The twins, both barely ten years old, both dressed up in the medieval gowns she had made them for a costume party. They were standing in front of their parents- Lianne could remember taking that picture. She set it down, and reached for the one bheind it. Bryan holding her with one arm and Rosie with the other, Jonathan behind them, and Erin and Rhian on either side. Her eyes stung and her face was wet- she set the portrait down quickly, knocking over the pile of books that always accumulated somewhere in the girls' room. Blinking away the tears, she reached for one of the books- The Hobbit, she though, I remember this book- it had fallen open. As she touched it the pages glowed golden, and somewhere, as the light enveloped her, she heard someone cry out in utter agony before the light faded, leaving her in the middle of a stone-paved street.   
  
Some days after Aria's flight from the counsel, Rhian sat, staring down at her folded hands. The great counsel had dispersed, all but for Gandalf, Elrond, and the members of the Fellowship; Aragorn, Borormir of Gondor, Legolas, Gimli the dwarf, Merry and Pippin, Sam, and Frodo. "You see now, do you not, child?" Gandalf said quietly. "Even if Aria were not of another world, it would be too dangerous for Aria to go with Frodo. She could easily be killed, or taken prisoner, which is much worse. No," he said wearily, "Aria must remain in Rivendell, despite our wishes otherwise."  
"I see, " Rhian murmured, looking up. Her gaze went from each face to the next, meeting their eyes solemnly. "I do see, but- something in my says that, Aria is no longer of my world. She belongs here, in this time. Even if she were given the opportunity to go back- even if she had not given her heart to Frodo-" the hobbit blushed "she would still remain."  
"But she still can not-" Boromir began. Rhian lifted her hand to forstall him.   
"I know she is still not allowed to go, that is not my point. I feel within myself that someone of my world must go."  
"You?!"  
"Go with the ring?"  
"Surely you can't-"  
"Silence!" Gandalf's voice cut through the outbursts. He turned to look Rhian steadily in the face. "You think that someone from your world must be part of the fellowship?"  
"Yes. Surely our fates are bound up with it- why else would we be here?"  
"And you volunteer to be the one to go."  
"I do not presume to invite myself..." Rhian said calmly, though Merry's mouthg quirked at that, "but of Erin and myself, I am the more inclined to take part in adventures. I would go, if you would have me."  
Gandalf looked at Elrond. "To send a woman on such a venture--" the elf lord began.  
"Is much the same as sending another man," Rhian finished for him. "Except that I would be cleaner and less inclined to argue."  
Gimli laughed. "If it were me," he said, "I should let her go. She has spirit enough for us all!"  
Legolas eyed him. "I hate being forced to agree with a dwarf," he said, "but Lady Rhian has a fine hand with the bow, and enough skill with the sword to portect herself. I would let her fo, if only to have someone to stand between me and your dwarf."  
"Aragorn?" Gandalf said, turning to him. "What have you to say?"  
"I say," Strider said slowly, "that Lady Rhian is valiant and loayl. I would not flinch to haver her at my side."  
"Perhaps," Sam piped up suddenly, "that is-" he blushed as everyone looked at him, then planted his feet a little and said stoutly, "perhaps the lady can't change the pattern o' things, because, well, she's already part o' it, ifn you take my meaning, sirs."  
"Well said, Sam," said the wizard. He turned to Elrond. "She is brave, faithful, and my already be vital to the quest." Elrond nodded.   
"So be it then. Rhian O'Connor, will you go with the Fellowship of the ring, and accept the danger it entails?"  
"I will," she said quietly.   
  
Erin looked up from where she sat on the front steps of the Last Homely House to see Frodo coming out of the door into the fading light. She winced at the sight of his pale face- Poor Aria! Erin had gone to her room every day since the counsel, but the hobbit girl had refused to let her in or speak to her. Erin wondered if Aria even knew that Rhian would be going with the Fellowship- but she thought that it might be better that she not.   
She was sued to Rhian's abrupt changes of destiny, and used to Rhian not consulting her; all the same, the fact that Rhian was going and she wasn't had rankled, until they settled it in ture sisterly fashion, by having a pillow fight. Rosie had joined in on the festivities with glee, until she found out that not only 'Ian', was leaving, but her hobbit playmates as well. Erin worried about the fiver year old- she asked every day upon waking for "Daddy an' Jon-Jon". But it had been months, and there was no way of knowing if they were even in Middle-Earth. She believed them to be, but that belief was based on confused memories of seeing them both enveloped by the golden light that had brough Rhian and herself to Rivendell. And if they had come, Why weren't they here? Were they even close by? Was there a logical way to figure out where they were, or was this entire train of thought completely useless? Erin shook her head at herself. She had totured herself this way far too many times in the past months, and as yet had nothing to show for it.   
She looked around her, studying the nine her sister would be facing peril with. Frodo was standing at the door with Bilbo, who looked rather like a lumpy egg, swaddled in his cloak. The young hobbit looked very pale and grim, int he firelight from within. Strider- Lord Aragorn, she said to herself- sat on the steps a little ways from her, and he too looked grim- grimmer than usual, at least. She thought of the looks that passed ever and oft between him and Lady Arwen, and felt his fate was little less worse than Frodo's. But she was glad with all her heart that he was going; with no one else would Rhian be safer.  
Standing apart from each other were Gimli, Boromir, and Legolas. The elf prince caught he eye, and smiled at her. She smiled back, glad that it ws sim enough out of doors to hide her blush. She was as afraid for him as she was for Rhian- no less afraid because he was a prince and a warrior. She was worried for all her friends- Merry and Pippin sat having a last smoke together and pretended to be cheerful, and Sam stoo with Bill the pony. Was he talking to himself?  
And Rhian; her sister sat on the step below her, her hand idly stroking the longbow Elrond had given her. Erin had joined her for practicies with Legolas, but her sister's aim was better by far. Rhian also had a sowrd; gracefully made, with a slender blade, with gold wire twined around the blade like vines. She ws dressed in the same manner as Aragorn- like a Ranger, in forest shades of green. The clothes had been produced by Strider when Erin asked for something she could alter to fit Rhian. She entertained the idea that they might have been his as a youth- more likely as a boy, since she had not had to take the sems up much. Rhian ws tall for a woman, but not by so much in this country, and Aragorn was a tall man, even here. Rhian had commented that she flet like Maid Marian- Erin had said she looked more like Robin Hood Himself, especially with the bow. And she did, really; the tunic was long sleeved and loose, and belted with a wide belt of black leather. The breeches were tucked into kneelenght boots, also black, of elven make, and she was wrapped in a dove grey cloack of heavy wool. With the hood up to hide her braid, Rhian could be mistaken for a pretty boy.   
"Hey Erin," Rhian said suddenly.  
"Hey Rhian."  
"I wish you were coming with me," she whispered.   
Erin laughed. "I'm not glad you're going, but am glad that I'm not. You were always the braver one."  
"Huh." Rhian leaned back against her sister's knees. "No I'm not. You were the one who managed to sell the house, pay the bills, arrange things. All I did was sit like a lump and do my best impression of Mt. Rushmore. You're brave, I'm just fool-hardy."  
"Are not!"  
"Am too."  
"Are not."  
"Am too.  
Are not..."  
Their sisterly exchange was interrupted by Elrond and Gandalf coming out of the hall together. The nine of the Fellowship, plus Rhian, Erin, and Bilbo, gathered to hear him. "This is my last word," he said gravely. "The Ring-bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On him alone is any charge laid; neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Countil, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. The further you go, the less easy will it be to withrdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will. For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road."  
"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens," Gimli said. Erin silently agreed with him.  
"Maybe, " Elrond said. "But let him not vow to walk int he dark who has not seen the nightfall."  
"Yet the sworn word may strengthen the quaking heart," Gimli replied. Erin grinned at his boldness, glad he was going with Rhian.   
"Or break it," Elrond said severely. "Look not too far ahead! But go now with good hearts! Farewell, and may the blessings of Elves and Men and all the Free Folk go with you. May the stars shine upon your faces."  
"Good...good luck!" said Bilbo- Poor old hobbit, Erin though- it's too cold for him out here. "I don't suppose you will be able to keep a dirary, Frodo my lad," he went on, "but I shall expect a full report when you get back. And don't be too long! Farewell!"  
Erin squeezed her sister's shoulder. "May the road rise up to meet you," she said. "May the wind be at your back." 


	10. A nice long chapter in which stuff happe...

Look! Another one! Wow! And it's even longer! Excerpts from A Sense of Belonging have been used, once again, thank-you-very-much ArwenAria18!   
  
Chapter 10  
  
Rhian looked back as they came at last to the way out of the valley of Rivendell; far below, she saw the lights of the Last Homely House glimmering. Then she turned her face forward, following the dim outline of Aragorn's shoulders, walking with the night wind behind her.   
  
In the middle of the night, after the departure of the Fellowship, Rosie woke from a nightmare, calling for her daddy. It took some time for Erin to sooth her back to sleep. That was why she was awake to hear the soft pad of hobbit feet in the passage outside, and the gentle following rustle of an elven gown. It was why she was awake to hear the whispered conversation outside the door.   
"You are leaving, then," said the soft voice of Arwen.   
"I might have known you would find out, Arwen my friend," Aria answered.   
"Are you worried that you will alter the course greatly?"  
"I feel as though I have to go. As if...I were a part of the course it is said I can alter. I have worried much over that but if I stay here and do nothing, I don't know what will become of me."  
"It will be perilous- you don't know how perilous."  
"Neither do any of the hobbits, and even of the others I have my doubts."  
"I will not try to stop you, nin mellon, I have always thought that you were meant to accompany Frodo. Would that I could join you, but my place is here. Take care!"  
  
As Aria's steps retreated down the hall, Erin heard Arwen going the opposite way- she opened the door quickly. "Lady," she said; desperation edged her voice. Arwen turned back. "It is not a good idea for Aria to go after the Fellowship alone! Surely-"  
Arwen smiled at her. "Of course. You are going with her, and I will watch over your Rosie."  
Erin smiled back. "Are you a mind reader, lady?"  
"No- your face is clear enough. Keep her and yourself safe!"  
  
Erin, dressed in some of the clothes her sister had left, overtook Aria at the border of Imladris. Aria had laughed when she saw her, but the reaction was nothing to Erin's when Aria lowered her hood. "Your hair!" The bright aubern locks had been cut level with the hobbit girl's chin.   
"Yes, I know," Aria said. "You're really not hear to take me back?"  
"No. Arwen is right- you belong with Frodo, and I belong with my sister."  
"You two are very close," Aria said thoughtfully as they walked.   
"Yes, we are. We've been living in each other's pockets since we were born. Twins are often like that, but most aren't nearly as compatible as we are. We were lucky. Sometimes," she grinned, "we even think together."   
Aria blinked, then saw her smile. "What would happen," she said slowly, "if one of you were to get married?"  
"You mean, would we grow apart, or would the other one be jealous, and so on?"  
"Yes."  
Erin shook her head. "Not likely. For one thing, we don't have the same taste in men- my aunt used to say that Rhian wanted a Knight in Shining Armor, and I wanted Prince Charming."  
"What's the difference?"  
Erin grinned again. "One has a horse and the other can dance."   
Aria laughed. "But would you be...well, less close?"  
"In a way- Unless we marry at the same time, one of us will be having experiences that the other hasn't; married life, children, things like that. So we might no longer think the same about some things, but I doubt we'll ever really grow apart. We'll certainly never love each other any less."  
  
It was dawn, and they were walking in silence when they heard Legolas' voice singing.   
"Their camp must be near,' Aria said, turning towards the sound. "But surely they can not be up yet. It had barely been light for an hour!" She and Erin lsipped forward silently, until they chould see ten figures sprawled out, each in his (or her) own fashion; Legolas, under a tree, had been singing in his sleep. He had told Erin he was known to do it, but she hadn't really believed him until now. Gimli looked like a stiff board, and he slept with his hand on his ax. Merry was on top of his cloak, on his back, with his hands on his stomach. Pippin had once been atop his cloak, but now he was laying on his pack, with his face buried in a pile of moss. Sam, who was snoring, had his head propped on Aragorn's stomach. Boromir slept propped against his shield, grasping his sword.   
Erin, wondering about Frodo, saw Aria tip-toe towards the roots of an old tree, where the hobbit lay curled up. She left them alone, looking for Rhian.   
Her sister lay rolled up in her cloak, using her pack for a pillow, both arms stretched up above her head. Erin was about to wake her- She at least, should know they were following- but she saw Aragorn stir, even as Aria did. The two of them vanished into the trees.   
  
"I," Rhian announced to the general public, "am wet."  
"And cold," Merry added.   
"And hungry," Pippin put in.   
Rhian stumbled over something- rock, root, foot, didn't matter- and fell against Strider's back. Again. "It's a good thing you can keep your feet," she muttered as he helped her back up. "Otherwise I'd be done for." She slogged on a few more steps. "Frodo does not look well."  
"He is not," the ranger said quietly, looked back to where Frodo trudged, Sam beside him the only thing keeping him from falling full length in the mud. Rhian touched his shoulder.   
"You do not look so well either."  
Aragorn was silent, and Rhian let it be. Behind her, Merry and Pippin had taken up their litany of complaints again.   
"How many days has it been raining?"   
"Too many."  
"I'm muddy."  
"And soaked."  
"And hungry."  
"Very hungry."  
"If you two don't hush it," Rhian said over her shoulder, "then-" Her threat was cut short as she stumbled again.   
"Perhaps we should just carry you?"  
"Ugh."  
"Ugh? What kind of polite conversation is 'ugh'?"  
Silence.  
"I don't think she wants to speak to us, Pippin."  
"I think you may be right, Merry."  
"Can't imagine what's wrong with her."  
"You're right. How could she not want to talk to two such fine hobbits?"  
"Exemplary hobbits."  
"Paragons of hobbit-hood."  
"Great hobbits."  
"Couragous hobbits."  
"Wet hobbits."  
"True. And muddy."  
"And tired."  
"And hungry..."  
"It stopped raining!" Merry and Pippin tripped over each other and landed in the mud.   
"Who said that?"  
"I'm not sure, but my nose is full of mud."  
"That was Aria!"  
"But it can't be!"  
"I thought your nose was full of mud, not your eyes. Look!"  
"It is Aria!"  
  
  
Rhian sat next to her sister, head cocked to one side, listening to the sound of happy hobbits singing a bathing song.  
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "they're horrendously out of tune."  
Erin listened for a moment, and winced. "You're right. They haven't been singing the whole time, have they?"  
"No, thank heaven. Everyone's been in the Depths of Despair."  
"Ah. That must be so much more...pleasant?"  
Rhian laughed. "Oh yes, absolutely marvelous. No more worries about that, though," she added, looking over at Aria. She grinned. "The sun's come out and all's right with the world," she sang.   
"I'm sorry dear, I know how much you enjoy a good dreary tramp in the mud."  
"Yes, I'm desolate, but I think I might just recover."  
"Really? Because if you still feel a bit down about it I could throw some mud at you."  
"No-thank-you. I am clean for the first time in...um...a long time. I'm staying this way. Keep your mud to yourself."  
"But my mommy taught me to share!"  
  
Rhian noticed a distinct difference in the outlook of the Fellowship now that Aria was there. Even on rainy days the sun was not missed, for Aria lightened spirits naturally. A soft-spoken word from her soothed flaring tempers, comforted raw nerves, made the world seem a bit brighter. She had firmly resolved to let that be her mission, and nothing else. -Every journey needs someone solely for the purpose of making things easier, and I'll not bother myself with any other occupation. As a result, sun was brighter, weather was milder, food was more satisfying, and Frodo was once more himself.   
Aria's cut hair made a sensation, to say the least. It was something of a novelty to most to see a grown woman with short hair, especially Aria. But Frodo adamantly declared the cut to be "sweet" - and it was so.   
Most of the time she pulled it back and fastened it with a bit of string. It made a velvety-soft, sweetly curling tuft which practically begged to be touched. Or so Pippin said as explanation for the numerous times he tugged it. Many of the Fellowship pleaded guilty to that offense; even Frodo was not above an occasional pull. Gentle, of course, and sometimes he even asked her permission prior to touching it (which Aria found irresistably cute), but a pull nonetheless. Aria berated them all, and they would apologize most sincerely - then as she turned her head with the satisfaction of having gotten her point across, a soft tug would come once again from guilty hobbit-fingers. It usually ended with Aria disowning them all and stalking off in feigned anger. Sometimes she pulled their curls in revenge.   
They met with an extraordinarily windy day a while later. Sand, silt, leaves, twigs, and other objects were constantly being blown in their faces.   
  
Erin was walking in front of Legolas, leaning forward into the wind, when Frodo darted ahead and began walking behind Gandalf. She smiled when she realized what he was doing- using the wizard as a windblock. She looked back- Aria was behind Legolas. Erin, who had heard nothing but the roaring of wind for hours now, was surprised when some trick brought Aria's words to her; "I can't hear a word you're saying, but it's fun either way." She was speaking to Legolas, who apparently heard nothing either. He answered, though, saying "Are you feeling well today, Lady? You look splendid."  
Their conversation went on, so, until Erin laughed silently into the rough air. Then Legolas spoke again and all laughter died.   
  
"Do you know, Aria, that I think I'm in love with you? I can't tell you because you love Frodo, and... it's hard, Aria."   
  
Erin bit her lip. She had known and understood that Legolas thought of her as a friend, perhaps a sister. And had accepted it, enjoying his presence and comfort, as the only one other than Rhian who knew her history. But she could not stop a rush of jealousy that he should love Aria- Aria, who loved someone else, when she- Erin worked hard not to complete that thought. To stop it she was forced to begin listening again, and soon she felt nothing but pity for the forlornness in Legolas' voice, because she could understand it completely.   
  
  
Erin looked over her shoulder at the sound of laughter behind. "They tried to pull it again," said Legolas' voice in her ear, meaning Aria's tiny ponytail. Erin shook her head and trudged on.   
"And here I thought people pulled my hair because it was long..."  
  
Cold. Erin thought. I. Hate. Cold. She stumbled again, and Legolas, who walked behind her, reached out a supporting hand. She was too frozen and weary to offer much more than a half smile in gratitude, between blue tinted lips.   
When they had prepared to take on Caradhras, Erin had been filled with misgiving by the name- she knew that name, and something in the haze of her blurred memory told her it was not a path she wished to tread. Or perhaps it was merely the sight of it.   
She had rooted out everything she had resembling a sock, and was now glad that the boots she wore were too big, because now they were to small. Her hair, which had been more often that not twisted up onto her head, now lay on her neck, providing some small protection, with the braid tucked in the back of her tunic. Gloves- thank heaven for gloves. And for Legolas, who saved her from falling again.   
And the worst was yet to come, as the snow fell faster and thicker.   
  
"Rhian! Rhian, you have to wake up now!" She mumbled, curling up tighter in an attempt to shut the voice out, but suddenly there was a sharp crack, and her cheek stung.   
"Wha-" She struggled up, putting a hand to her face. She frowned up at Boromir. "You slapped me!" she said accusingly.  
"I saved you," he corrected. "You might not have woken up again. We must turn back before we all freeze." He turned away, pushing through the piles of snow.   
Oh, she thought. Of course. He's clearing a path. "Erin," she added out loud. "Erin? Erin!"  
"I'm right here," her sister's voice said from behind her. "I managed not to go to sleep, thank you."   
"Huh. Keep it to yourself. Up." The two of them, leaning on each other, staggered with the hobbits after Boromir. "What a useless lot we are," observed Rhian, some of her spirit coming back out of the cold-induced fog. "So far all we do is consume edibles, carry unused items, and get in the way. What are we good for?"  
"Body heat," Erin said, and they stumbled on, with an arm each around the other's waist.   
  
They camped at the foot of the mountain. Rhian, and especially Erin, could still feel the mountain's cold, especially at night. They had developed the habit of sleeping back to back, talking each other to sleep. At the foot of Caradhras, still shivering even under the blankets, Erin gave a whispered account of the overheard half-conversation, and her sister squeezed her hand in sympathy. "Erin, what if- even if he loved you back- what if we were to find our way home? Isn't this, well, almost better?" It was lame, she knew, but there was nothing else to be said. Certainly not "I understand" because Rhian had never been in love, never even thought she was in love.   
"I've thought of that," Erin whispered back. "I try to be thankful, when I think that we might go home. But what if we don't?"  
Rhian was silent. "I would almost rather not think about it," she said finally. "If I were given the choice, I'm not sure what I would do- how could we go home, when there is such a quest to be accomplished? But what if our presence is a stumbling block? What if we ruin everything? I almost wish I could remember what happens but then I decide that would make everything worse. What is there for us at home? But what is there for us here? I- sometimes I feel...vague. Or...faded. Like..."  
"Like we're neither here nor there. Just...somewhere in between. We didn't belong in our world- the other world. It wasn't ours. But we don't belong here, do we? Mama and Papa aren't buried here, Aunt Lianne and Uncle Bryant and Jon aren't here. All we have is Rosie-"  
"And our books," Rhian added, thinking of the beloved piles of volumes, left in the care of Elrond.   
"Yes, and your harp. But I think about things like the blue comforter, and wish I had it. And I miss Taliesin."  
"But if we went home-"  
"I would miss Aria and Frodo and Samand Merry and Pippin and Gimli and- and Legolas..." Erin added, blushing.   
"And Aragorn and Gandalf-"  
"And Bill."  
"Yes, and Bill. And I would miss hearing elves speak and knowing there were people like hobbits, and castles, where people live and work..."  
"Miss living in a fairy tale, you would, Rhian-"  
"Yes, and being part of a quest. Can't you feel it, that we're part of something bigger and older than that grumpy old mountain up there?"  
"Yes. It's almost terrifying."  
"But we're here."  
"Yes."  
"Erin?"  
"Yes?"  
"We do belong somewhere, don't we?."  
"Yes. With each other."  
  
Caradhras had beaten them. Apparently they would be forced to go beneath the mountain... a prospect at which Gimli thrilled, and Legolas shuddered.   
"Moria," Rhian said flatly. "Moria?"  
"Moria," said Gandalf.   
"Moria?"  
"Yes, Moria!"  
She sat down. "Moria." Rhian looked over at her sister. "That name gives me a really, really bad feeling."  
  
A/N: Half of this chapter- from the 'conversation' between Aria and Legolas (dialogue ArwenAria18's, but everything else mine) onward- was written several months ago, way back when before they were even close to leaving Rivendell; before Erin and Legolas had their 'interlude'. I really like that part. I felt like my sisters were acting like sisters, more than they've done in other chapters. I also think that they really show Erin and Rhian's relationship; of course, they were the best thing I had for that at the time, before I'd written any other good sister scenes. Anyway, thank you for reading and by the by, writing this involves re-reading both A Sense of Belonging and LOTR- great works! Read, encourage your friends to read, and so on. I'm just an innocent bystander who got caught up in the excitement ;) 


	11. Rhian Tells A Story and We Finally Bump ...

Chapter Eleven  
  
"...it had been many days since the lady knight Briyann and her prince, the brave Chiarlon, had set forth from her father's castle. They had ridden, side by side, for fourteen days and nights, into the wildness beyond her father's country. Briyann rode with her flaming hair unbound, and Chiarlon, when he looked upon her, found his heart so full he dared not speak. And so it was in silence that they rode, and the hooves of their horses made no sound on the soft ground, and it was thus that they happened to hear the cry of a damsel in much distress."  
  
"Damsel in distress? Wherever did you get that horrible term?"  
  
"Be quiet Pippin, Rhian's the storyteller."  
  
The Fellowship- with its attractive additions- sat clumped together in a large cavern, where they would camp for the 'night'. Though glad they could rest, Rhian liked this cavern little better than the treacherous passages. The dark, gaping maw of an ancient well was in the room's center, and something about it- other than the fact that it would be all too easy to fall into- made her apprehensive. She wasn't sure if she smelled something odd in the air about it, or if perhaps she heard something, the faintest of sounds from far below.  
  
"Rhian, go on with the story."  
  
She returned to her audience.  
  
"The cry they had heard came from far away and above, where Charlon could see- for the prince had the eyes of a hawk- a ledge or cave cut deep into the stone face of the cliff, with no steps to ascend, nor any kind of ladder. And as he stood in his stirrups and looked to the rocks all around, he saw a dreadful creature, a creature with the back legs of a lion, and the beak and talons of an eagle, and the wings of a dragon. And in its claws the creature clutched a fair maiden, white of skin and golden of hair, who wore a crown. And as he described to his lady all that he saw, she bethought her of a tale she had once been told, some time ago in the hall of the king whose daughter she had saved. The tale had been told by an old woman, a teller of tales and master of her trade. She had spoken of such a creature, and had given it the name of 'Gryphon. So 'tis called,' Briyann said, 'and it is as fell a beast as ever was. Let us seek to rescue this dame,' and so it was that Briyann rode forward to challenge the beast, and Chiarlon came after her, for his horse was of not the same stock, and less swift. When the gryphon saw Briyann, and the white smoke that rose behind her steed like a plume, he released his captive, leaving the maiden trapped on the outcrop of stone. He spread his great wings- so great that they blotted the sky from Briyann's sight- and plunged down upon her. Her spear he grasped in his black talons, wrenching it from her grasp, and her shield he buffeted with his dark wings, such that it was knocked from her hand and the blazon of the silver falcon was marred by dust and stone. Though she took her sword from its sheath, its bright edge fell useless against the creature's armored feathers- for if a gryphon is to be slain, it must be struck on the soft underbelly of its lion parts, or else be driven through the eye to the brain. So Briyann's blade was splintered apart from its hilt, and Briyann herself was caught up in the gryphon's talons, though she struggled mightily, and was carried in his hateful grasp far above the earth and to a place high in the mountains to the north- Such a place as Chiarlon had spied, where no steps or ladder made way for the escape of human feet, and only winged creatures could come or go as they wished. Briyann, though valiant, had neither feather nor pinion, and her arms, though skilled, had not the way of catching her up in the air and supporting her in flight. So the brave daughter of King Arthur was trapped, well and good, with no means of attaining freedom."  
  
"And did your loving prince sleep through all of this?" Boromir demanded.  
  
Rhian fixed him with a haughty stare. "Did I not say, sir, that the steed of Chiarlon was not of the same sort as that of his lady? For there was no steed in the world to equal that of the lady Briyann's Talien, who was a foal of the Fire mare, and a creature of the wind. But great was Prince Chiarlon's grief and pain, when he reached the place where his lady's spear lay splintered on the ground, and her brave shield lay dented in the dust. Talien, at the loss of his mistress, ran free upon the wilds, mad with grief of his own, and Chiarlon did not deign to try and capture him. But he knelt in the dirt and took up the blade from his lady's sword, where it lay naked of sheath and hilts, and having no place else, he put it among his arrows in the quiver on his back. Her shield he also reclaimed, and tied to his horse that it might not be lost, and as he bound it he wept, so that his tears bathed away the dust from his lady's symbol, and caused the silver falcon to gleam bravely again. And when he had done all these things, through his grief he heard the call of the maiden whose cries had first brought them to this spot, and who was entrapped still upon the gryphon ledge. Seeing her, Chiarlon though to seek how she might be freed from her aerial prison, but found no means of reaching her until-" Rhian paused before she went on. She had been about the decide that the fabled prince had a magic ring among his possessions, but, knowing her audience, thought better of it. "Until," she continued, "he remember that in his saddlebags there was a...a..." she cast about for a less traditional magic item. "A tiny ball of purest spun glass," she said finally, "which glowed a pale gold under the starlight, and had, so the woman who had given it to him said, magical properties to aid the truehearted. She had spoken curiously when she placed the strange thing in his hands- 'Be true,' she had said, 'to the other half of your whole, for if ever you lose the part of you that is not yourself, then you shall lose all of what you are.' He did not know of what she spoke, but he had cause to respect her words- although that is another story- and had sworn to do as she said. Now in his hand the ball glowed silver in the sunlight, and hummed against his palm, ever so faintly. He knew not what good it might do, and so he simply spoke quietly to the ball, murmuring all his tale of woe, and the sorry plight of the maiden far above. As he finished speaking, the magical light left his palm, swirling up into the sky above until it was no more than a speck, and as he watched it, found that of all things the light melted into a twining strand, on end of which fastened itself to the stone above the captive's prison, and the other end fell lightly into his hands. In this way the fair lady was made to descend until she reached the blessed ground, and the light resolved itself once again into a ball of glass, and settled itself in the prince's hand."  
  
"What about Briyann?"  
  
"Yes, why doesn't he go rescue her?"  
  
Rhian yawned. "Briyann can go unrescued until tomorrow. I am going to sleep."  
  
"You can't sleep now! What if the gryphon comes back?"  
  
"If he does, it will be to eat you."  
  
Merry and Pippin retreated, cowed for the time being. Pippin stared idly down the deep darkness of the well. "I wonder," he thought to himself, "just how deep it might be?" Looking around, he picked up a stone from near at hand and let it fall. Silence.  
  
plunk  
  
"What was that?" Rhian was roused from her dazed half sleep by Gandalf's cry. She blinked, trying muddily to figure out what had made the wizard angry. As Pippin began a stammering explanation, though, she felt herself falling back asleep...falling...  
  
_________________________  
  
Hours later Rhian woke, disoriented and bewildered. The darkness seemed to press around closely, like a physical weight that restricted her breathing. She blinked, feeling as though her eyes weren't really open, hating the feeling that she was suddenly blind. This was too close to her childhood nightmares of being lost and unable to see somewhere....She felt for her cloak, drawing it over he head.  
  
"Briyann," she whispered to herself, "had paced the length and breadth of her prison more times than can be counted, and the cold wind swirled her fiery hair around her, so that she looked less like a warrior, and more like the princess she was by birth. Or so thought the magician, when he came..."  
  
_________________________  
  
"...For he did come, the magician who was the master of the gryphon, and stood and marveled at her as she slept on the cold stone with her hair spread around her like licking flames." Two days in the darkness, with shadows all around, and the weight of the mountain above her. Rhian walked steadily uphill, focusing her eyes on the light of Gandalf's staff, and her ears on the sound of her own voice. She was far beyond having any idea where the story was going. She simply let the words run out in one long flow, a stream that pulled her along. "Stone," she murmured. "The very stones of the mountain itself shivered when this magician set his foot upon them. the very earth felt the presence of his darkness. Not darkness without, for he seemed to the eye fair and young, both tall and straight and most proud- but darkness within, where his desires conquered all. What he saw, he wanted, and what he wanted, he took."  
  
Rhian fell silent, her voice fading away into the shadows around them. Erin, behind her, stumbled, and she offered a supporting arm. Rhian knew the darkness was wearing on her sister, just as it was wearing on her, but more so. Erin had never liked the dark, had never liked being enclosed, where there was no moving air.  
  
"Go on, Rhian," Aria sad quietly.  
  
"The magician," Rhian began again...  
  
_________________________  
  
The man stirred, wincing in pain as harsh agony stabbed through his head. "Be still," a feminine voice commanded. "You will disturb the bandage." As the throbbing receded, he opened his eyes cautiously, to see filtered sunlight casting soft shadows over delicate carvings in the wooden beams above him. He looked around as much as he could without moving. Beside him, a face slowly came into focus.  
  
"Erin?"  
  
A tiny frown crossed her forehead. "What did you call me?"  
  
"Erin...but...that's not your name, is it? But somehow it goes with your face."  
  
He tried to concentrate, to push his way through the fog surrounding his mind.  
  
"It is not so far off. You struck your head, and were badly hurt. To be confused is natural." The woman sat lightly on the edge of the bed a moment. "Eventually, perhaps, you will remember."  
  
He lay very still, and she rose to go, her hair casting off flickers of sunlight.  
  
"Bryan," he said suddenly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Bryan. That is my name." 


	12. 'KHAZAD-DUM'

Chapter 12

"You tell stories in much the same way that other people breathe, lady," Boromir remarked. They had come at last out of the passages, into a great open cavern, full of cold air. Erin was shivering, asleep against her sister's back, the two of them propped up against the wall. Boromir had been set to watch, and again unable to sleep, Rhian stayed awake too. 

"I have always told stories, as far back as I can remember. It was a great pastime in our family. My parents told stories to me, and I told my own versions of them to Rosie. Erin and I used to entertain ourselves by making up stories of our own. They were mostly about two sisters who had some sort of adventure, of course, and in the end lived happily ever after." 

"Will you tell this story, do you think?"

Rhian was silent, staring into the darkness. "I don't know," she said finally. "I hope so."

"Tell me, lady, you speak very little of your home. Why?"

"There is nothing to say of value."

"Do you think so little of the time you come from?"

Rhian thought carefully before she answered. "While I lived there, I thought that perhaps the good outweighed the bad. But now that I am here, now that I compare it to the grace and honor in this world, in this time...I say yes, there is little to be valued in the place where I was born."

"A sad thing to say."

"Yes. But at least in this world, evil has a name to fight. In that time and place, evil is simply everywhere, in everyone, and it is accepted far, far too easily."

"You speak with the dignity and grace of a great lady- a queen."

Rhian blinked, unsure how to respond, but Boromir apparently did not expect her too. He changed the subject, talking of Gondor. His pride for his country reverberated through his voice. Eventually, all talk was exhausted and Rhian began to fall asleep, but the strange tone of Boromir's voice still rang in her ears. 

In the morning, there was sunlight- pale, trembling sunlight, filtering down from far above. Rhian woke from strange dreams, where instead of the night sky there was a great stone roof, with threads of mithril instead of stars, and Gimli's voice echoing, _in Moria, in Khazad-dum! _And somewhere in the dream Boromir was telling she should have been queen, instead of the dark haired woman wearing the crown...And in her dream everyone's faces were blurry. 

But in the sunlight her dreams faded, and it was time for breakfast, before they went on.

They came eventually to a great square chamber, where everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. Rhian stumbled over a vague shape beneath it in the doorway, and Boromir caught her arm- he had been walking behind her, instead of ahead as usual. Frodo's voice came from in front of her, where she could not yet see for Aragorn's shoulders- "It looks like a tomb."

It did. The chamber was full of dust and shadows, and the single slanting ray of sunlight fell upon a single great block of stone, carved with runes. "Balin, son of Fundin," Gandalf read quietly. "Lord of Moria." 

Rhian felt the deep sorrow spreading among them, and the dark thread of Gimli's palpable grief. The thick emotion fell over their fellowship like the dust on the floor, uniting them, for a little while. As her eyes adjusted to the light of the chamber, Rhian made out the shapes of bones, armor, shattered weapons...her skin prickled. She saw Erin shudder. A tomb indeed. 

Gandalf found the blackened book- the pages slashed and stained. Rhian stood looking over his shoulder as he laid it on the stone slab of Balin's tomb to read. Erin pressed close to her side, and Boromir was still close behind her. The fellowship had automatically clumped together, as though they were all afraid of being pulled apart suddenly. The wizard's voice read slowly as he puzzled out the script on the abused pages. Echoes of the dwarves last moments filled the room. Driven back, back, barring the great doors, trapped... "We cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second hall...We cannot get out. The end comes...drums, drums in the deep." A shiver passed up Rhian's spine. "They are coming." 

Rhian's hands fisted. The air filled with the finality of those last words...horror...

"Come now! Back to the hall!" Gandalf's voice pulled her back. And then...

_Boom, boom...doom, rumble, doom...boom, boom..._Rhian gasped at the sound, backing up into she bumped into the stone tomb. A harsh horn blast, running feet, shouts in the hall..._doom, doom, doom..._ "They are coming," she whispered.

She stood frozen as the great doors were closed and wedged- all but the east door. "Rhian. Rhian!" Gandalf was shaking her shoulder, and she startled out of her frozen horror. "Go with Aria, quickly," he said. "I-" His orders were cut off as there was a violent blow to the door, and it trembled on its hinges...it was shoved open, a horrible grinding sound as the wedges grated back across the floor...a green scaled arm, a toeless foot...Rhian still didn't move until Frodo's cry of "The Shire" echoed in the room. 

_Do not freeze up! You can't! _she thought furiously, _You don't have time to be terrified, Rhiannon O'Connor! You are not trapped yet, and you will get out! _Already the door was splintering inward, the new gap filling with arrows. She had carried her black longbow all the way from Rivendell and never used it- she would use it now. She got one shot through the gap before the door gave completely and a flood of orcs streamed into the chamber. Then there was no more time, and somehow she got her sword into her hand. Cut, block- a black bladed dagger scraped the skin on the back of her hand, cut into her lower arm. It stung, but there was no time to bind it. Slash, stab- where was Erin? There, with Aria, out of the fighting, but- "NO!" Aria screamed at something Rhian couldn't see, and made to run out of hiding into the battle. "Erin! Stop her!" Why was her voice so hoarse? Out of the corner of her eye she saw her sister drag a struggling Aria back, both their faces marked with dirt and tears. An orc had seen them, and Erin's long dagger was covered with blood- then another orc was in the way, and Rhian's blade had more work to do. 

"Flee!" _DoomDoomDoomDoom _"Now is the last chance. Run for it!"

Somehow the company found their way to the door. Rhian, standing bewildered when suddenly there was no one for her to fight, was dragged towards the stairs by Boromir. The drum echoes reverberated through the stone, _doomdoomdoom_. Vaguely she registered that Gandalf was staying behind...and Frodo... "Is he dead?" she gasped, sagging a moment against the wall. 

"I'm not dead! I can walk. Put me down!" Aragorn half dropped him to the floor and Aria threw herself into his arms. Gandalf was giving Strider instructions. 

"We can not leave you to hold the door alone!" the Ranger cried, but the wizard pushed him into the stairwell.

"Do as I say! Swords are no more use here. Go!"

Rhian groped her way down the steps in the thick dark with rest of the fellowship, reaching out blindly to keep hold on the back of Boromir's tunic, Aragorn close on her heels. The whole mountain seemed to be shaking _doomdoomdoom_, like some horrible nightmare. "Erin?!"

"I'm here," her sister's voice said, from somewhere ahead in the dark. 

Then they had reached the end of the long stair, and the twins found each other in the dark and leaned on one another. Gandalf's voice echoed faintly from far above, and light flashed. _doomdoomdoo- _Silence. The wizard came flying down the stairs, landing in a heap. 

"Well, well! That's over!" he said. "I have done all that I could. But I have met my match, and have nearly been destroyed. But don't stand here! Go on! You will have to do without light for a while: I am rather shaken. Go on! Go on! Where are you, Gimli? Come ahead with me! Keep close behind, all of you!"

The fellowship stumbled after the sound of his voice in the darkness- Erin and Rhian kept a tight grip on each other's arms, and Rhian felt a hand grasp her shoulder, Boromir or Aragorn. 

_DoomDoomDoom_

The drums began again, distant, but following. Rhian felt as though her nerve should have broken long ago and left her raving mad, but she clung numbly to her sister and kept after the tapping of Gandalf's staff, as he probed the ground ahead of them with it like a blind man. 

An hour, a year later, down many stairs in the dark, Gandalf finally stopped. 

Erin sagged against the wall as the voices of the fellowship rose up in a murmer around her. Scenes from the battle above flashed past her eyelids. She had always thought herself incapable of violence- she had always thought that she would never be able to react if she were attacked. But she had used her long knife to good effect- her hands had been covered in black orc blood, as she kept Aria in the corner behind her. She hadn't felt sick until after, as they had fled down the stairs- then, the nausea had made her dizzy, until she heard her sister's voice in the darkness. _At least now,_ she thought_ I know that I will be able to protect myself._ But the talking had ceased, and they were moving again into the darkness.


	13. Durin's Bane

Chapter 13  
  
"I think," Gimli's voice said from the darkness, "that there is a light ahead. But it is not daylight. It is red. What can it be?"  
  
"Ghash!" Gandalf said. "I wonder if that is what they meant: that the lower levels are on fire? Still, we can only go on."  
  
On they went. Soon Rhian could see the silhouettes of those in front her, outlined in flickering scarlet light from somewhere in the corridor ahead. The air grew ever hotter as they descended the steeply sloped passageway, to the arch of a low door whence the light came. Beyond, somewhere, was the Bridge, and a stair, and the First Hall, and beyond that daylight. Doomdoomdoomdoomdoomdoom The stone vibrated with the drumbeats, shaking Rhian's bones, and horn blows and orc cries echoed off the pillars of the Second Hall.  
  
"Now for the last race!" said Gandalf. "After me!"  
  
They ran.  
  
The fire heating the air and casting red shadows came from bright flames that curled upwards from a wide crevice, cutting across the chamber floor. The orcs were cut off, but arrows clattered against the floor, sending up splinters of stone. Rhian felt the breath of one against her cheek even as another passed narrowly over Frodo's head. Ahead, farther than she liked, a dark chasm yawned, the floor of the hall ending abruptly. The Bridge, looking disturbingly like a single slender thread, spanned the unknown depths. As they ran the arrows fell ever faster, one piercing Gandalf's hat and sticking there. If she hadn't been underground, surrounded by fire and orcs and fleeing for her life, Rhian would have laughed until she cried.  
  
And then sudden pain burned through her shoulder, as though she had been stabbed with a heated poker. She screamed- somehow she lost track of her feet and struck the ground hard, the tough fabric of her breeches tearing, along with the skin of her knees. Blood was soaking swiftly down the right side of her tunic, and her unwounded arm, the left, was tangled in her cloak. "Rhian!" Erin's voice was screaming in her ear, as she struggled to fight her way through the fog of pain. "There's no time, Erin, go on!" Boromir didn't call Erin by her name. But as she pushed herself up to her knees somehow, she saw the man shove her sister forward, to where Gandalf marshaled their fellowship at the entrance to the Bridge. Then he turned back to her, and before she could protest he simply picked her up- doomdoomdoomdoomdoom, ever louder, ever closer, and no time to staunch to wound- her nostrils filled with the smell of her own blood, and her hand was sticky with it as she clutched ay Boromir's cloak and he ran with her for the Bridge of Khazad-Dum.  
  
Gimli was already on the bridge, Merry and Pippin close behind him. Rhian looked back, over Boromir's shoulder. Black shapes swarmed beyond the fire, armed with evil looking spears and scimitars. The fire made the blades red as blood. DOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOMDOOM! She heard Legolas' voice, somewhere through the red haze filling her mind, somewhere ahead. "A Balrog! A Balrog is come!" The great black shape, wreathed in flame and smoke, bearing a blade of fire and a whip of many thongs. Terror. Doom.  
  
"Durin's Bane!"  
  
"Over the bridge!" Gandalf's voice echoed. "Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly!"  
  
At the far end of the bridge, Boromir let Rhian down to the ground- Erin was there in a moment, pressing a pad of cloth ripped from her tunic against the place where the black arrowhead protruded from Rhian's shoulder. Rhian saw beyond her sister what passed upon the bridge.  
  
Gandalf stood alone in the middle of the bridge, leaning on his staff with his left hand. In his right, Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. Boromir and Aragorn stood with swords drawn at the end of the bridge, unwilling to leave Gandalf to face his enemy alone.  
  
The Balrog reached the bridge. The shadows were not caused by its flame, but part of it, spreading like foul wings. It cracked its whip, the thongs cracking the air like gunshots. Fire came from its nostrils. Gandalf didn't move.  
  
"You cannot pass." Silence was everywhere, and no move was made by any, even the orcs. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass."  
  
There was no answer from the enemy. Its terrible shadow spread furthur, stretching out, and it set its foot upon the bridge. Rhian's shouder throbbed- shudders were passing through her now until her whole body shook. Her lips were parted, and she breathed in harsh, gasping sobs. Hot tears streaked her face. Moria. That name gives me a really bad feeling. There was a horrible memory rising up from the blank pages of a red leather book. No, oh no...Gandalf looked small, so terribly small and old and bent before the dark malice of the Balrog.  
  
Glamdring glittered white and shattered the blade of fire.  
  
"You cannot pass!"  
  
Suddenly Aragorn let out a shout and jumped forward but Gandalf lifted his staff and struck the bridge at his feet, crying out. The staff broke. White flame rose up, blinding.  
  
The Bridge of Khazad-Dum cracked.  
  
At the Balrog's feet, the stone broke, and it crashed downward with a terrible cry. But as it fell it swung its last weapon, and the whip wrapped around the wizard's knees, dragging him down and away, over the edge of the shattered stone. "NO!" Rhian struggled up against her sister's hands. "No," she whispered.  
  
Gandalf's gnarled hands clutched at the stone.  
  
"Fly, you fools!"  
  
There was darkness. The last of the bridge, where it protruded like a tongue of stone above the chasm, was crumbling even as Aragorn and Boromir leaped the last of the way to solid ground. Sobs heaved in and out of Rhian's breast, and Erin, kneeling beside her, clutching her hand, was shuddering and weeping. Dumb shock and horror covered the company the stood at the brink of the chasm of Khazad-Dum. Aragorn's voice roused them from their stupor. "Come! I will lead you now! We must obey his last command. Follow me."  
  
Rhian would reflect later that if she hadn't already known he was a king, she would have felt it in his voice then. Boromir gathered her up into his arms again, but she was numb and barely noticed, other than to catch hold of his cloak again and cling to his shoulders as he staggered up the great stairs beyond. Ahead Aragorn led, and she saw for the first time that Aria was wounded too, a small bundle caught up against Legolas' shoulder.  
  
They ran on, weeping as they ran, and the drumbeats rolled slow and mournful behind. Doom. Doom. Doom. Light before them, from great shafts piercing the roof. Into a hall, bright with daylight from great eastward windows. Erin's eyes stung with new light and tears. They fled on, through the great broken doors, and then the Great Gates opened in an arch of blazing light. An orc guard blocked their way only for a moment and was knocked aside. Rhian was born out, into the sunshine, and down the huge steps, worn with age.  
  
The Fellowship passed over the threshold of Moria, and wind dried the tears on their cheeks and turned them cold.  
  
On through the Dimrill Dale they went, surrounded by the shadow of the Misty Mountains, but with golden sunshine in the east. Back, beyond Boromir's shoulder, Rhian saw the black doorway of the Gates amidst the mountain shadow. Faint and far away rolled drumbeats. Doom. Black smoke trailed thinly on the wind, up and away. The world around them was empty, and as Boromir set her upon the ground Rhian felt the grief rising through them all, and they mourned, each in his own way.  
  
Doom. Doom. Doom...the last of the drumbeats faded into silence. 


	14. Moving Again

Chapter 14

There was darkness. The last of the bridge, where it protruded like a tongue of stone above the chasm, was crumbling even as Aragorn and Boromir leaped the last of the way to solid ground. Sobs heaved in and out of Rhian's breast, and Erin, kneeling beside her, clutching her hand, was shuddering and weeping. Dumb shock and horror covered the company the stood at the brink of the chasm of Khazad-Dum. Aragorn's voice roused them from their stupor. "Come! I will lead you now! We must obey his last command. Follow me."

Rhian would reflect later that if she hadn't already known he was a king, she would have felt it in his voice then. Boromir gathered her up into his arms again, but she was numb and barely noticed, other than to catch hold of his cloak again and cling to his shoulders as he staggered up the great stairs beyond. Ahead Aragorn led, and she saw for the first time that Aria was wounded too, a small bundle caught up against Legolas' shoulder. 

They ran on, weeping as they ran, and the drumbeats rolled slow and mournful behind. _Doom. Doom. Doom._ Light before them, from great shafts piercing the roof. Into a hall, bright with daylight from great eastward windows. Erin's eyes stung with new light and tears. They fled on, through the great broken doors, and then the Great Gates opened in an arch of blazing light. An orc guard blocked their way only for a moment and was knocked aside. Rhian was born out, into the sunshine, and down the huge steps, worn with age. 

The Fellowship passed over the threshold of Moria, and wind dried the tears on their cheeks and turned them cold. 

On through the Dimrill Dale they went, surrounded by the shadow of the Misty Mountains, but with golden sunshine in the east. Back, beyond Boromir's shoulder, Rhian saw the black doorway of the Gates amidst the mountain shadow. Faint and far away rolled drumbeats. _Doom._ Black smoke trailed thinly on the wind, up and away. The world around them was empty, and as Boromir set her upon the ground Rhian felt the grief rising through them all, and they mourned, each in his own way. 

_Doom. Doom. Doom..._the last of the drumbeats faded into silence. 

It was Rhian who broke the sorrow stricken silence; the arm on which she rested seemed almost dead with numbness, and she shifted her weight from it. The movement evoked a soft cry that she could not bite back quickly enough. The sound brought Aragorn from where he stood staring back at the black Gates, and she saw the marks on his weathered cheeks where the wind had dried his tears. 

"Little bird, forgive me!" he exclaimed, falling down to one knee at her side. "This hurt is grave and I have given no thought to it."

"It's not so bad," Rhian mumbled, leaning on her sister. Her throat was harsh from weeping, and she coughed. The shuddering movement hurt all through her body, and began the flow of blood again. Aragorn pressed her gently back and bend over her shoulder. Carefully he peeled the cloth of Erin's hastily made bandage away, and then used his dagger to cut back the fabric of Rhian's tunic, laying her shoulder bare, red and angry beneath the drying blood. She found herself looking with strange fascination at the black tip that had torn through her shoulder- the haft had been broken in her first fall, but the arrowhead remained lodged in her flesh, and when Aragorn probed it gently she choked back a scream. 

As the end of the arrow was slowly, tortuously drawn out Rhian sank her teeth into a fold of her cloak- quite possibly, she reflected with bitter humor through tears of pain, the only part of the garment still relatively clean. She gripped her sister's hand until her knuckles whitened, and when Aragorn finally wrapped a clean bandage over the wound and tied it off she sank back with a gasp. Her face was deathly pale from the loss of blood. 

The rest of the fellowship turned away as Erin eased the torn, bloodied tunic off of her and replaced it with another. Aragorn looked about at the ragged band, faces streaked with dirt and soot and tears, clothing torn and hands smeared with the blood of orcs and their own small wounds. "I fear we cannot stay here longer," he said. "Our other hurts we must bind as we walk, and tend later." He turned to look back once more at the black, gaping maw of Moria. "Farewell, Gandalf!" he said, raising his sword in a last salute. "Did I not say to you: _if you pass the doors of Moria, beware?_ Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?" 

Then he turned back to those who waited- Aria was still a small bundled shape against Legolas' shoulder, and Frodo leaned on Sam's arm. Boromir had lifted up a half-fainted Rhian again, and she dumbly wound her fingers in his cloak once more. The fellows marched.

Northward the dale rose up into a glen of shadows between two great arms of the mountains, above which three white peaks were chining: Celebdil, Fanuidhol, Caradhras, the Mountains of Moria. At the head of the glen a torrent flowed like a white lace over an endless ladder of short falls, and a mist of foam hung in the air about the mountains' feet. 

To the east the out flung arm of the mountains marched to a sudden end, and far lands could be descried beyond them, wide and vague. To the south the misty mountains receded endlessly as far as sight could reach. Less than a mile away, and a little below them, for they still stood high up on the west side of the dale, there lay a mere. It was long and oval, shaped like a great spear head thrust deep into the northern glen; but its southern end was beyond the shadows under the sunlit sky. Yet its waters were dark: a deep blue like clear evening sky seen from a lamp-lit room.

Its face was still and unruffled. About it lay a smooth sward, shelving down on all sides to its bare unbroken rim. This was the Mirrormere, deep Kheled-zaram. They went down the road from the Gates. 

It was rough and broken, the ancient stones cracked, and every step jarred Rhian's shoulder until she gritted her teeth and lay limp in Boromir's arms for pain. They followed the once paved way that wound upwards from the lowlands, passing toppled works of stone, and green mounds topped with silver birches or fir trees. Then the road went eastward, drawing them by the Mirrormere, where stood a broken column. There Gimlie said farewell to Kheled-zaram, and they went on, and on, at a swift pace, until Frodo and Sam had fallen far behind. Rhian, rousing from her stupor, saw that they were no longer near, and looked back for them over Boromir's shoulder. "Strider!" she cried, and her voice grated as a harsh whisper in her ears, but the Ranger heard her and turned. She pointed back to where the two small shapes toiled after them. At once Aragorn ran back, and Gimli went with him, for only he did not already bear a wounded burden. He carried the staggering Sam upon his back, and the Ring-bearer was hoisted into the arms of the Dunedan. 

Soon afterward they came upon a stream that ran down from the west and joined its bubbling water with the hurrying Silverlode. Together they plunged over a fall of green-hued stone, and foamed down into a dell. About it stood fir trees, short and bent, and its sides were steep and clothes with harts tongue and shrubs of whortle-berry. At the bottom there was a level space through which the stream flowed noisily over shining pebbles. Here they rested. It was now nearly three hours after noon, and they had come only a few miles from the Gates. Already the sun was westering. 

The kindling of the fire was left to Gimli, Merry, and Pippin, and the hurts of the others were tended by Strider. Aria had been laid by Legolas into the arms of Frodo, who held her in his lap and wept over her hair. Aragorn touched her forehead gravely, saying she would wake in her own time, well enough, and the arrow wound in her arm was bound. Erin made her sister lie still with her head pillowed on wadded shirt, and when Strider instructed her she bathed the hurt shoulder with the infusion of _athelas_. The pain lessened to a dull throb, and the redness eased a little ways. She fell into a heavy sleep, but the smell of the crushed kings-foil drifted around her and she dreamed sweetly enough. 

Erin remained awake. As her sister slept, she bathed and bound the gash on her arm, the scrapes over her knuckles and torn knees. She also washed away the blood from her sister's hands and face. As she spread the cloak over Rhian, she heard the welcome sound of Aria's voice, helping Aragorn tend to Frodo's abused ribs. 

She looked up, and saw Legolas turning away from the weary laughter, and his face made her soul sting for him. And across the fire she saw that Gimli also saw. And he met her eyes over the flame. What had Gandalf said, a million years ago this morning? _Dwarves have keen eyes for seeing in the dark._

A/N: Well, it's not particularly long, and I'm terribly sorry. I shall try very hard to write more. Sorry it's been such a while, all you four people still reading this, but first I had to take a break after writing the last chapter (is it chance that that was chapter 13?) and then my life was enveloped by the Spring Musical, which is now over. It's weird, but without all my energy going into drama I feel like I have nothing to do with myself. So I'm writing. Aren't you pleased. Anyway, if all goes according to plan, next chapter will see us in Lothlorien, where (if all goes according to plan) Interesting Things Will Happen (provided, of course, that all goes according to plan). Anyway, thanks for reading! (all you lot that I can count on one hand). -Kathryn Angelle


	15. The Edges of Lorien

Chapter 15

Perhaps an hour or more later, Erin was woken by the sounds of the others stowing gear and Gimli extinguishing the fire. She pushed herself up from where she had fallen asleep, half curled next to her sister, who still slept on. Erin did not like the paleness of Rhian's face, and there was a faint sheen of sweat across her forehead. She blotted it away, then forced her cramped limbs to a standing position. 

"Surely," she turned to Aragorn, "surely we aren't going to go on?"

The Ranger faced her, and she could see the weariness and grief he was controlling. "We must," he said.

"But Rhian-"

"We will carry her, but we must move on. When we reach Lorien she will be properly tended, but now we have to continue."

Erin looked worriedly at her sister, but nodded. She went to help Aria obliterate the last signs of their presence. 

It did not take long to make all ready. Frodo, Sam, and Aria were all much better, and declared themselves fit to walk at a fair pace, though Legolas and Gimli both had instructions from Strider to walk behind the hobbits at all times, lest they be lost. Rhian still had not woken, and as Erin added her sister's pack to her own she saw Boromir stepping forward, even as Aragorn bent to lift the sleeping girl like a baby. The warrior said nothing, but Erin wondered at the look on his handsome face. 

For three hours they walked, as the sun sank behind the westward peaks, and long black shadows were cast down from the mountainsides. Dusk fog rose up about them, putting Erin in mind of the mist clad isles of her namesake. Soon it was dark, deep night falling, dotted with bright stars. But the moon above was waning and cast little light. Rhian woke sometime during the long trek, and though she was in great pain the made no sound, once again gritting her teeth on a fold of her cloak. When they paused to rest a moment Aragorn looked grimly at her shoulder, washing it again with an infusion of _athelas_, the scent of which seemed to ease her pain, although this time she remained awake. And they went on. 

There was chill night-wind blowing up to meet, out of the valley, which was spread out like a grey shadow, and the soft, endless rustling of many leaves filled the mind of Erin with peaceful memories of other forests she had explored, walking barefoot with her sister. 

"Lothlorien!" Legloas cried reverently. "Lothlorien! We have come unto the eaves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter!"

Rhian lifted her head from where it rested on Strider's shoulder, and looked up with wonder at the trees, standing tall before the beneath the night, arching over the road and the stream, running suddenly beneath the spreading boughs. The star light turned their stems grey, and the trembling leaves pale gold. 

"Lothlorien!" said Aragorn, and Rhian heard the glory in his voice. "Glad I am to hear again the wind in the trees! We are still little more than five leagues from the Gates, but we can go no farther. Here let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind."

"If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world," said Gimli. 

"It is long since any of my own folk journeyed hither," said Legolas, "but we hear that Lorien is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that holds evil from the land. Nevertheless its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now deep in the woods and far from the northern border."

"Indeed deep in the wood they dwell," Aragorn murmured, and when he sighed Rhian remembered that for many years Arwen had lived in the Golden Wood. "We must fend for ourselves tonight. We will go forward a short way, until the trees are all about us, and then we will turn aside from the path and seek a place to rest in."

"I approve of that idea," Rhian mumbled. She was weary and aching despite being carried, and her shoulder throbbed once again. 

"Indeed," Strider said, a tiny bit of humor edging his voice. He went forward, but behind them Boromir stopped and would not follow. 

"Is there no other way?" he said. 

"What other fairer way would you desire?" said Aragorn. 

"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords," Boromir said bluntly. He eyed the great trees above them with distaste and distrust. "By strange paths has this Company been led, and so far to evil fortune. Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few none have escaped unscathed."

"Boromir!" Rhian exclaimed, putting off whatever reply Aragorn might have made. "Do they teach such poor discipline in Gondor that you question the decisions of your chosen commander? Here you speak of what you do not know, for it seems to me that lore wanes in Gondor, if they speak evil of Lothlorien. Do you of Gondor let the blind lead the blind? Aragorn knows this place and is known to it, and if he says it is a place of good, so is it." The sudden rush of Celtic temper seemed to sum up all of her discomfort, the aches in her muscles, the throb of her shoulder, and the weariness permeating her whole body. 

Boromir was silent, and in the faint starlight only Erin who stood near him could see his stricken expression. Aragorn spoke more gently that Rhian had.

"Do not say _unscathed_, Boromir, but if you say _unchanged_, then perhaps you will speak truth. But believe what you will, there is no toher way for us- unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone." Despite his reasonable tone, even his weariness was close to the surface, and his patience thinned. 

"The lead on!" Boromir said finally, setting foot over the borders of Lorien. "But it is perilous."

"Perilous indeed," said Aragorn, "fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!"

And they did. 

One mile more, until they came to another stream where it flowed swiftly from the tree-clad slopes westward. They could hear it splashing down a fall somewhere in the shadows to the left. The hurrying waters ran across the path and joined the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the trees. 

This was the Nimrodel, and Legolas waded into it gladly. Behind him they came one by one, and on the farther side they rested. Rhian, Aragorn set gently down beside the banks, and clumsily she unlaced her boots with one hand, and let the cold, clean water flow over her bare feet. Some of her weariness, at least, seemed washed away, and beside her Erin did the same. At some point all talking ceased, and in the quiet they could hear the music of the waterfall ringing sweetly off the trees. Rhian thought she could hear singing mixed in with the sounds of the water, and said so aloud. 

"I hear it too," Erin murmured. 

"You hear the voice of Nimrodel," Legolas said, "who lived here long ago." In a soft voice he began to sing, the story of the Elvin-maid Nimrodel, who lived beside the stream that bore her name, who wandered and was lost, somewhere perhaps in the mountains, and of Amroth, the Elven-king who, when a storm carried his ship away from the Grey Havens without Nimrodel, cast himself into the sea to return and search for her, and was never heard of again. As he sang, Erin leaned against her sister's unhurt shoulder, and Rhian heard her sigh. She squeezed her hand gently. 

"But in the spring when the wind is in the new leaves the echo of her voice may still be heard by the falls that bear her name," Legolas said. "And when the wind is in the South the voice of Amroth comes up from the sea; for Nimrodel flows into Silverlode, that Elves call Celebrant, and Celecrant into Anduin the Great, and Anduin flows into the Bay of Belfala whence the Elves of Lorien set sail. But neither Nimrodel nor Amroth ever came back."

The talk flowed around them, but was, for the moment, ignored by the sisters. Rhian said softly by her sister's ear, "Has it been very bad of late?"

"No worse than since the beginning," Erin said, equally soft. "Though I can't help thinking that perhaps I should have bludgeoned myself in Moria."

"Either your sense of humor or your sanity is waning, and I hope it's the latter, because I can attribute it to your 'condition'."

Erin prodded her- gently- in the ribs, and their attention was brought back to the Company by Aragorn. 

"Tonight we will do as the Galadrim and seek refuge in the tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise."

A/N: So I'm detailing things ArwenAria18 skipped over, lucky me...no wonder this is taking me so long! SHE got them from Rivendell to Lorien in seven chapters! It's taken me six just to get them ALMOST to Lorien- I think it'll take another one to actually get them to Galadrial and Celeborn, so that'll make it eight, with me leaving out Frodo-pining-over-Aria scenes and cutting down on Caradhras. Oh well. I my be faster than a herd of turtles- sorta- but I'm havin' fun!


	16. Into Lothlorien

Author's Note: For those that asked for clarification about Erin/Legolas- Erin fell in love with Legolas in Rivendell, but she overheard, through a plot convenience at Caradhras, Legolas saying he loved Aria. Gimli has all this figured out- everyone else has been too busy to notice. The lot of them _have_ been working rather hard to get themselves killed, you know. 

Note: In A Sense of Belonging, Aria sleeps on the same flet as the other hobbits, but I figure, things being they way were, all the girls would be together. So I changed it, because I get to do things like that, lucky me. I did borrow a big chunk directly from ASoB, because by heck I wasn't about to re-write a scene that didn't need it. It starts right where Rhian and Erin are un blindfolded. 

Chapter 16

Rhian got laboriously to her feet, with Erin's help. She leaned on her sister with her good arm, their boots dangling from Erin's other hand. They moved slowly in the wake of the rest of the Fellowship, Aragorn glancing over his shoulder so see that they followed- Rhian refused to be carried any more for the night. The two sisters walked with their heads close together, talking quietly. When they looked up it was to see Legolas climbing a ladder of silvery rope, Frodo at his heels. "Elves," Erin whispered. Rhian only nodded. They came up against the bole of the tree, and Rhian leaned against it, already pale from the short walk. She felt the bleeding begin again on her shoulder, and tried to concentrate on the ethereal voices floating down from above, although she could only hear enough to catch one word out of ten. 

Legolas dropped down lightly from the branches, frowning slightly. They were guests in Lorien, and welcome to spend the night in the trees, on the platforms among the branches of this tree and the next- Erin had a sudden silly image of trees with rows of mailboxes on them, like strange apartment complexes. As the hobbits began to climb the rope ladder, Legolas turned to Erin. Both Rhian and Aria were hurt badly enough to make climbing practically impossible. Aria could be lifted, but Rhian...

"I'll go up last," Rhian said. "I can stand on the ladder and hook my good arm through it, if the rest of you will haul me up." One of the elves had descended from the mallorn tree, and he bowed to them. Erin haltingly spoke the elvish greeting, and he smiled at her and answered in kind. Then her turned to Rhian, speaking in Common.

"Perhaps, lady, we may handle you more gently than that. Come."

They followed him to the tree where Aragorn and Gimli waited. The dwarf scowled at the elf darkly, and was ignored. Haldir (so the elf had said his name was) and Legolas vanished upwards, and a net was let down, like a silver spider-web, Rhian thought. It unfolded like a small hammock, and Haldir slipped down in its wake. "For the lifting of burdens onto the _talan_," he told her. 

"Nice to know my role in life," Rhian remarked dryly. The elf, realizing what he'd said, started to protest but Rhian just laughed at him, easing down to sit on the netting, drawing her legs up after her and folding herself into it. Haldir swung up into the tree, and slowly she was lifted upwards. With her unhurt arm she guided her swaying elevator away from branches that threatened to bump her shoulder, until she was drawn up through the hole in the platform that circled the tree trunk, and was assisted to the 'ground'. 

The ladder was let down and Erin and Aria followed. Legolas offered a hand to each, but Rhian knew that Erin looked back over her shoulder and saw what she saw- the Legolas lifted the hobbit girl with especial gentleness. Haldir had gone, by then, and Aragorn and Boromir courteously stretched a blanket across half of the flet, curtaining it off to make a private place for the girls. 

The pain in Rhian's shoulder seemed to be growing steadily, despite the strange peace she felt, which felt as though it emanated from the very trees of Lothlorien. When Erin began gently easing the bandage away she hissed sharply through her teeth. Her sister looked closely at her face. 

"It's getting worse."

"I'm fi-" but Erin was already calling for Aragorn. Rhian submitted to having her shoulder cleaned and examined, tended and re bandaged. Stoicism, she thought, was overrated, but she gritted her teeth anyway. 

She slept back to back with her sister, wishing they could talk- but Aria was curled up just a little ways away, and Legolas himself lay beyond the thin curtain. 

Erin woke suddenly in the night, and behind her she felt Rhian stir too. The soft wind had died, and peering up through the leaves she could see the curve of a Cheshire cat moon. What had woken them? She lay still listening- harsh laughter, and many feet. The unavoidable clank of metal. She tried to gauge the direction of the sound as it faded it away- to the left? But, disoriented, she could not think what way that was. 

Erin heard no more noise, and finally laid her head down again to sleep- she could hear Rhian's deep breathing at her back already, overcome with weariness. She slept again as well. 

They woke to a golden morning, and once again Rhian insisted on walking, though she was still pale. Boromir watched her carefully, Erin thought. But the pace was easy, for the most part, and Rhian looked better, only leaning on Erin's shoulder a little. 

When they came to where they must cross the river, watching Aria walk across the single rope as the elves did, Rhian shook her head, but Erin looked closely. She stepped onto the taut strand easily at her turn, released the hand hold and walked slowly across, keeping her back straight and her head up and her pace steady, one foot at a time. Aria clapped for her when she reached the other side, and she turned to keep a close eye on her sister's crossing. Rhian too walked straight and steady, but grasped the guide-rope with her good hand, though lightly. 

When they had all reached the far side, and the second grey-clad elf had returned to the guard flets with the ropes, there was a small explosion in the form of Gimli, who refused to be blindfolded as Legolas had agreed. For once Rhian was content to remain out of the argument, but Erin looked disapprovingly at Legolas, for agreeing to any condition without Gimli's consent. He met her eyes and seemed to understand, because he looked away immediately. In the end, Erin stepped forward. "If Gimli will consent to be blindfolded, I will be too," she said in exasperation. Rhian nodded in agreement. 

"I as well."

"And me," Aria put in, but Gimli, looking speculatively at Erin, shook his head. 

"No, I am content. Come and bind my eyes, elf, but I shall claim full amends for every fall and stubbed toe, if you do not lead us well." 

So Erin and Rhian went blindfolded as well, and guiltily Legolas walked at Erin's heels, in case she stumbled. Boromir simply picked up a protesting Rhian and carried her. She finally gave up, and found herself describing to Haldir the ocean, when he asked Merry of the havens beyond the Shire and Merry couldn't answer. She told about the beaches she had seen, but mostly she described the harsh crags and the cold waters surrounding them, the places she liked best. She had never been fond of sand. She found herself giving an account of her single visit to Venice, a very long time ago. She and Erin were a source of entertainment throughout that day, until at night they paused, still with their eyes bound. It was noon of the next day when they met a host of Elves, on their way to the northern borders- the sounds that had woken Erin and Rhian in the night had been orcs, now destroyed. And a message came, from the Lady, that Gimli should have his eyes unbound. Erin and Rhian were loosed too, and they all stood silent in the sunlight. 

Aria started laughing from sheer joy at the world before her eyes. She spun, and hugged Gimli, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He looked apologetically to Haldir and his amused Elves who were watching nearby. "Now, now," he mumbled. "No need for that."   
"Frodo might get jealous if you're not careful," Merry grinned.   
"All right, then, I won't single anyone out," said Aria, dashing up to Sam and kissing his cheek (which quickly reddened as he scuffed the ground with his boot). Then Merry, then Pippin (who slyly tugged her tiny ponytail from behind while she wasn't looking and shot a triumphant glance at Merry). Then up to Strider, who lifted her with a laugh so she could reach his cheek.   
As she ran up to Legolas, he knelt down slowly. Gimli watched keenly, aware of a new suspicion growing in his mind and wanting reiteration. He got it, catching the split-second expression on Legolas' face, as Aria's lips touched his cheek, that betrayed him entirely. Gimli shook his head and grunted.   
Then it was gone, and, last, she approached Frodo. She paused puzzled at his slight half-smile, and he turned his cheek to her.   
At the very last second before she kissed his cheek, he twisted his head and caught her full on the lips. Her eyes opened in surprise, but Frodo wrapped his arms around her waist and held her to him. Aria's first shock melted into acquiescence, and she leaned into him, slipping her arms around his neck. Pippin whooped and clapped, and Sam indignantly clapped his hand over Pippin's mouth, obviously wanting no interruption for their first kiss.   
No one spoke. Finally Frodo brought his hands up to Aria's shoulders, and she drew her hands down and entwined her fingers through his. They pulled back slowly and Frodo smiled quietly, taking a deep breath and feeling as though Light had entered him. The rest were looking on bemusedly. Sam was sobbing into Aragorn's tunic. 

Erin had smiled at the scene, but she turned suddenly to look at Legolas. His expression, though carefully masked, told her that the glory of Lorien was suddenly blotted out for him. 


	17. Choices

Chapter 17

That night they were camped beneath the great trees. Rhian, lying on the fragrant grass beside her sister, shifted restlessly- it seemed impossible for her to be still, but every movement sent harsh pain through her shoulder, preventing comfort or sleep. She drew carefully away from Erin, and sat up. The wound was red and swollen- it looked angrier than before, and when she touched it, it was warm. With a grunt she rolled to her knees and stood, all her muscles and joints protesting. This being wounded business was not to her taste. So far she had been about as much use to the Fellowship as, as..._Snow in summer_, she thought grimly. _Or any other unwanted thing._ Walking in a somewhat crooked line, she passed among the trees, standing like silent sentinels in the falling dusk. Every few yards she paused, resting against one of them, drawing strength through the bark, imagining the roots twisting deep into the earth, far below. She came to the foot of a hill and stopped. Her shoulder ached insistently and her throat felt raw and harsh. She sank down onto the gentle grassy slope, laying back, and put her head down on her arm. Useless useless useless- the resentment building up in her chest weighed her down and pushed the peace of Lorien aside. She couldn't wield sword or draw bow, she couldn't even walk properly, much less carry out a quest. She realized she was crying like a baby but couldn't stop. Her shoulder hurt, and her temples throbbed, and her muscles ached, and she was doing no good to anyone and she hated it. Eventually she ran out of things to cry about, and her mind blanked numbly, and she opened her stinging eyes to stare at the ground under her face.

A tiny golden flower, like a star, poked out of the grass just beyond her nose. She lay staring at it, the pushed herself up a little and looked around. The yellow stars carpeted the ground around her, rubbing shoulders with another white flower. They glowed with loveliness, almost shimmering in the last bits of light- _At least_, she thought, _I have not been weeping all through sunset_. She sat up all the way and stared at the blossoms until the sound of a footstep brought her back into the world of mortal thought. 

It was Aragorn- she wondered at him, for he seemed younger, and less worn as he breathed the air of Golden Wood, though his face was grim as always when he looked down at her. 

"Surely, little bird," he said, "you have not been weeping here, of all places."

She shook her head silently, and he went on, as though answering what she had not said. "Your shoulder will heal, songbird. And I have not thanked you for your service in Moria." She looked up, surprised. "You did not see?" he smiled at her. "You prevented an orc from gutting me, at least once. And I daresay Gimli remembers that the orc who would have knifed him fell to your sword. And even had it not, we would be glad to have you in our company." He stood up and reached down to aid her. "Aria is not the only one to bring light with her. Perhaps when we march again, you will finish your story. You will recall, that your princess was left unrescued."

So it was that Rhiannon Fiachra and Raithnait Erin O'Connor came into the presence of the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. Rhian was expected, and a carved wooden bench was lowered for her, and for Aria, for the climb was very long indeed. A rope was passed around their waists to bind them to the seat lest they fall, but they were lifted slowly and steadily, and the seat barely swayed. Rhian looked down as they were raised up, waving to Erin, and Frodo stared up forlornly at Aria's dangling feet. Pippin laughed at him. Erin waved back to her sister before started up the ladder. It seemed to take forever, but when her hand touched the tree by accident she found her weariness slipped away and she climbed a little more. She came to the top, very far away from the ground below, and stepped up onto a great flet like the deck of a ship, with a house built on it. She turned just in time to see Rhian and Aria untying themselves from their swing. 

"They lifted us very slowly," Rhian said, coming to stand by her sister. "We didn't even sway at all. Very boring." 

Erin shook her head at her. "Haven't you had enough excitement for a while?"

The two fell silent as they entered the hall. The others had already passed in before them, and Frodo sat near Celeborn's chair, with Aria beside him. Each was greeted by name as they entered; "Welcome, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Welcome son of Thranduil! Welcome, Gimli, son of Gloin. Welcome, Boromir, son of Denethor." Rhian and Erin entered last and he raised his eyebrows. "And welcome, Lady Rhiannon. We were told of your coming, but who is this that comes with you?"

"I am Raithnait Erin O'Connor, my lord," Erin said quietly. "I come with my sister. I am known simply as Erin."

"Indeed? Then welcome, Lady Erin." 

The travelers were seated, and Lord Celeborn looked from one to another. "We were told," he said, "of the coming of nine, and then of ten, but you bring eleven and yet still are missing one. Where is Gandalf the Grey?"

"He set out with you," said Galadriel. Her voice was clear and musical, but lower even than Rhian's. "But he did not pass the borders of our lands. Tell us where he is, for I much desired to speak with him. I cannot see him from afar unless he comes within the fences of Lothlorien. A grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and mind are hidden from me."

Rhian stared at the lady. What did she mean by that? Aragorn answered her, saying "Alas! Gandalf fell into shadow and did not escape the darkness of Moria."

Grief she had thought already old pierced Rhian's chest as the elves filling the hall cried out at the ill tidings. She turned her face away as Aragorn began the account of their travels. 

"If it were possible," Celeborn said at last, "one would say that Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly-"

"Do not speak so!" Erin's harsh cry cut through whatever the elf lord might have said. "Had the need not been great he would never had taken us near. And at the last he gave his life that we might escape. Surely even you do not dare to speak ill of such as this!" and her voice with a choked, gasping sob. Rhian clasped her sister's shoulder- both their faces were streaked with tears. Erin turned and hid her face in Rhian's cloak. There was silence for a moment. 

The Lady Galadriel spoke then, and the air quieted. More words were spoken, but neither Rhian nor Erin heard them. Erin's sobs stopped, and their tears were dried. As they lifted their heads as one, the Lady's gaze passed over each of the company- only Aragorn and Legolas, it seemed, could bear it for long. Sam quickly blushed and bowed his head, and terrible grief passed over Aria's face. Rhian saw Boromir scowl darkly. Then Erin found herself caught in the Lady's eyes- it seemed as though she heard Galadriel speak to her, but her lips did not move and her gaze did not waver. 

__

You could have what you wish for. And suddenly she seemed to be standing at a crossroad, where she could look down either path and see what might come. _There can be no happiness on such a quest as this_. Her eyes were led down one way and she saw herself, all alone in the darkness, without Rhian, without Legolas. She could hear somewhere out of the sight their voices, her friends voices, the voices of her family, crying out, suffering, but she could not go to them. She heard little Rosie's high shriek. She jerked back from the way with a violent force of will. _You see? _the voice murmured softly in her mind. _Only a fool would choose such a path_. _But you may have all that you desire..._and she was looking down the opposite way, and saw her parents, alive and strong, her mother's eyes bright and laughing, her father's great booming laugh and broad shoulders, the giant, gentle hands, and the hands like white swans, fingers twining as they smiled at her and reached out. She saw herself, her white costume shimmering beneath the lights as she held the massive audience captive with the beauty of her dance, and they rose, the applause thunderous, and roses were cast at her feet. And there was Legolas, waiting for her in a wood, and he stretched out his hands to draw her to him for a kiss, and his eyes said she was his only. 

She looked into Galadriel's face, and it seemed to her that surely such a one could do all these things, did she only choose as she was bid. 

"_I hold the keys to death and Hades."*_ Mentally Erin pulled back. No. Not even this elf woman held dominion over the dead. The dead were in the hands of God and only He could bring them back. She did not want someone to love her because someone else had told him to do so. Fame was false and fleeting. _But you did not undertake this quest_ the voice said softly, persistently, trying to draw her back. _It is not your quest. You do not belong in this place. _"No," Erin said, though she knew she did not really speak aloud. "I do not belong there." And suddenly Galadriel smiled, releasing Erin from her gaze. 

*Revelation 1:18, New International Version of the Bible


	18. Words

Freed from Galadriel's gaze and dismissed from her presence, the remains of the Fellowship were led to pavilions beneath the trees. Rhian, weary but not in pain, was soon asleep on one of the soft couches in the smaller of the two, but Erin sat beside the fountain, her mind twisting painfully about the one image that had become the center of her thoughts. Legolas, dark green eyes flecked with gold, looking at _her_. She drew her knees up to her chest and wished desperately that her sister weren't asleep. It was strange not to share in Rhian's hurt. Always they were sick at the same time, managed to hurt themselves simultaneously; Aunt Lianne claimed they were jinxed. The same but different. It was only in this world that they could see what those differences meant. Closer than ever, but no longer interchangeable. Like two statues that match, but may be set on opposite sides of the room. She pushed her mind into thoughts of her sister but the green eyes invaded. She lifted her head from her knees to look around. The Fellowship had gathered together, but they were silent and no one met anyone else's gaze. 

Abruptly Legolas shoved himself to his feet and walked away into the woods. To the surprise of all, shortly thereafter Gimli followed. As the dwarf stepped into the trees, he looked at Erin. Almost without realizing it, she too got up and went into the green shadows. She walked without really thinking about where she went, until she heard voices. She stopped- one of the great trees stood between them and her. Fingers trailing against the rough bark, she went softly around it, until she could see. But not be seen. 

  
The Elven-prince was sitting with his knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them, his slender hands dangling to the earth. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was grim. Gimli abruptly sat down opposite him. At the noise he made, Legolas' eyes flew open.   
"I wish to be alone," he said bluntly.   
"I'll bet you do," Gimli replied, making no move to get up.   
Legolas sighed in exasperation and turned his head away.   
"It's the Lady Aria, isn't it?"   
"I don't know what you mean." But Legolas' voice betrayed him.   
"I was afraid of that."   
"What? What were you afraid of? Now you've come here and won't give me peace; say what you will and leave me _be_." With the last word Legolas stopped quickly.   
"I might have known this would happen," Gimli began. "Never involve an Elf in anything but they ruin it, is what I always -"   
"I did not ask for your prejudices, filthy dwarf! If you have nothing better to do with your breath, then I suggest you use it for breathing and nothing else!" Legolas stood angrily and made to leave, and Erin ducked back around the tree, pressing her back to it, but she did not hear footsteps, and Gimli's voice commanded him to wait. There was silence, and as the silence deepened she could hear Legolas' angry breathing, rough, wrathful gasps. When Legolas' breathing became slow once more, the dwarf spoke, softer than he ever had before. "You love her, don't you?"   
Erin flinched, and let her head drop back against the tree, suffering through the breathless pause the followed the dwarf's declaration. "What did you say?"   
"Aria. You're in love with her. What do you mean by it, I'd like to ask?" Erin bit her lip, and slipped around the tree once more, looking with just one eye. Gimli glared up at the tall elf, his voice become hard and gruff again.   
"I... I..." Legolas cast his eyes everywhere and finally sighed, and leaned his head against a mallorn-tree's trunk as if in defeat. "Is it so plain as that, that a dwarf should notice?" he murmured, half to himself.   
Another time, Erin might have smiled to see Gimli's beard bristle. "Watch yourself, elf. I'm not blind, and I'm _not_ thick-headed. What in Middle-earth do you mean by it, I ask again, since you seemed unable to hear it the first time?"   
"Mean by it? Mean by it?" Legolas grit his teeth. "What would you understand of me? Leave me be, I tell you!"   
"And _I_ tell you, I shall not! If you ever so much as lift a _finger_ to come between them, why I'll --"   
"Dwarf!" Legolas' countenance was white-hot. "Judge me not! You know nothing of me if you think I would be so low as to put myself before her! It is the last thing I would do. Perhaps you only weigh matters by how you would act were you in my place. And indeed I would not find it hard to believe of a dwarf. I would never speak of this thing to her. She is happy with... with Frodo. And I ---" suddenly his voice broke and he hid his face in his arm. "Leave me be, I say," he said quaveringly.   
Gimli paused. He turned, before Erin could duck away, and looked straight into her face. Not at all surprised to see her eavesdropping where she had no business, it seemed.   
Legolas did not move.   
"All right," Gimli said at long last. "All right, then. I'll go." And he left the elf alone with his thoughts. He looked into Erin's face as he passed her- she had put her back to the tree again, and sagged against the bark. She met his eyes and then bowed her head and did not watch him go. Behind her she heard Legolas sob.

Erin had walked soft, careful steps away from where Legolas wept alone. But when she could no longer hear him she broke into a run. She ran to nowhere in particular until she stumbled and fell. Stunned, she lay very still for a moment, until she could breathe again. She pushed herself up, swiping at wetness on her cheek to find that it was tears. Gaining her feet, she heard voices and realized she had run in some sort of circle, and come back to just out of sight of the fountain where the Fellowship rested. Slowly, walking unsteadily and limping slightly, she left the shelter of the trees- the talk was quieting, and she saw Frodo cast himself down on his couch in the men's pavilion. She turned her face away, not wanting to see if Legolas was there, not wanting to meet Gimli's knowing eyes, and not wanting to speak to anyone. The curtain that served for a door had been drawn across the entrance to the second pavilion, and she stepped around it quietly. Aria was sleeping already, curled into a corner of the couch that took up half of the pseudo-room. Rhian, in the middle of it, was breathing evenly. Erin sat on the edge beside her and began fighting her boots off. She dug out a clean shirt, one that had been worn to a comfortable thinness, and began to brush her hair. 

"Erin?" Rhian sat up next to her. She looked into Erin's face and reached over for her hand. "It's all right," she whispered. "I know it will be." Erin nodded. Rhian took the brush from her and finished smoothing the tangles out of her hair, then let Erin take it back and undo the black braid. Long hair meant brushing, and lots of it, and it was a habit from their mother that they found touching hair, and having their own touched, soothing. Erin put the brush away and came back to find Rhian half asleep again already, and she crept onto the couch beside her carefully. As she wadded the pillow up to suit her, Rhian came partly awake. 

"Erin?"

"Mm?"

"We're going to be all right too."

"You know it?"

"I know it."

The two sisters slept, and their hair was spread across the pillows between them, and the strands swirled together, dark and light forming patterns against the white sheets. 


	19. Galadriel

A/N: Hurrah! An update! Bouncy bounce! Gah, it's too late to be writing author's notes. Big chunks stolen borrowed from A Sense of Belonging, with many kisses to ArwenAria18, and mutilated altered to suit me. Aria does _not_ look in the mirror- stop screaming, I can't hear you, and I get to do whatever I want, so there. And Legolas' conversation with Galadriel is greatly changed. So that means even if it SOUNDS like you've heard it before, don't skip, because I stuck in a word here and a phrase there and it totally changes what's going on. Oh, stop whimpering. Haven't you ever heard of creative license? 

All reviewers get imaginary chocolate chip cookies *dangle*dangle*pretty*pretty*

Chapter 19

Morning dawned soft and clear in Lothlorien, a bright day of warm sunlight and cool spring breezes. Rhian woke feeling that a great burden had been lifted from her spirit, and she saw the same peace in her sister's face. It was as if the very quietness of the golden wood sank into their minds and cleansed away the darkness. In a half-recognized agreement, neither of them spoke as they got up and dressed in the new clothes they found waiting- fine linen gowns that flowed gracefully into gentle lines, and soft laced sandals. Erin was braiding her sister's dark hair, twisting a loose strand tightly around the ends, when the grief-stricken scream split the silence. 

"What-" Rhian darted out of the pavilion with Erin at her heels, just seeing Aria's bright head disappear into the trees before the hobbit girl vanished beneath the shadows. Frodo stood staring after her, bewildered suffering written across his face. 

"Frodo, what's happened? What's wrong?"

His eyes were full of tears. "She didn't know- she hadn't realized- that, that Gandalf-" he choked. Erin reached out to touch his shoulder lightly and he bowed his head. 

"Let her be. Grief is right and healing. It will spend itself out and be easier for her to bear."

"But I want to _help_ her bear it!" 

Erin shook her head. "She must come to it on her own terms first, before she will be able to let anyone in. Even you." He nodded miserably, and went to sit by the fountain, watching the trees hopefully. 

Erin did not look at him, but she knew Legolas watched, too. 

Aria's grief did ease, as she turned to her friends to share comfort- not until late had she come out of the trees, as dark fell slowly. She walked slowly into the fading light and went to Frodo's arms, where he stood waiting. Farther back, nearly hidden, a taller form turned away. 

The days in Lorien passed slowly, and the Fellowship was grateful, soaking in the peace, drawing strength from the respite. One quiet evening Rhian and Erin called Aria away from her walk with Frodo and Sam to join them as they sat beneath the trees. Three women cannot travel together in a company of men without becoming either sisters or enemies, and if Erin was Rhian's right arm Aria was her left, and they could talk freely. The hill where they sat was thick with flowers, and it was not long before Aria was crowned with a wreath of them, and more were woven into Rhian's braid. Erin showed the hobbit girl how to braid the longest stems together, and so she too had a diadem of silver-white stars. This was how they were when Frodo returned, Sam close by him, both of them hushed with awe in their faces. They had been with the Lady Galadriel, and would not speak of it, but sent them deeper into the wood where the lady waited. 

The elven queen stood waiting near a wooden bench, carved so that it seemed to grow from the ground it stood on. She was perfectly still, as though she were a statue, and her eyes looked into the distance. She turned as they approached and bade them sit. 

"You are from a time far in the future, are you not?" the Queen asked.   
"Yes, lady."

"And why have you come?" She looked to each in turn. Aria finally answered.

"I do not know." 

Galadriel paused and looked up at the stars. "In Middle-earth we have prophecies," she began in a far-off voice. "And they speak of the coming of the Halfling with Isildur's Bane, and then the waning of this land... of _my_ land and my people.   
"But these prophecies speak not of you, any of you," she said, turning and looking down into their eyes, lingering on Aria's. "For this reason I am in doubt as to what should be done. Gandalf would have been a great help in this matter. But alas! he is no more, and those of us who remain must try as best we may. Shall I permit you to leave with the Fellowship? Or shall you remain here and hopefully bring about no changes? And yet I would not keep you here against your will. Now tell me: how did you come here, and what do you purpose to do?" 

In turn they spoke of how they came to find themselves in Middle Earth, and all the events that had led to their coming into Lorien. When they were silent, the lady turned to look closely at Rhian.

"Tell me this, Rhiannon, why you felt it necessary to journey with the Fellowship? Why go into danger, when the danger is no business of yours?"

"I-" Rhian paused. "I can't say that I know, for certain," she said. "It seemed to me...that it aught to be so. That if I were sent, or drawn to Middle Earth, it must be for some purpose, and failing that, that I might find, on this road, others from my time. If we came, surely there are others- Surely my uncle and Jonathan came as well. I can hardly go without seeking them."

Galadriel nodded, turning to Erin. "And you?"

Erin looked steadily into her face, repeating her first words on their arrival before the king and queen. "I go with my sister."

"And for no other reason?"

She studied Erin's face, but when she didn't answer, turned to Aria. 

"Only to be with Fr - with the Fellowship," she said.   
Galadriel took the girl's head in her hands and gazed into her eyes, as a mother does who is looking for traces of deceit in a beloved child.   
"I see that you are honest. But I also perceive that you have another interest in this Fellowship; in one of its number particularly?"   
Aria blushed and looked down, too embarrassed to speak of her love to a near stranger. It was too tender a secret to be left open for perusal. The elf-Queen tried to catch her gaze again.   
"It would not be Aragorn," she said quietly, as though speaking to herself. "No, nor the dwarf. The Elven-prince?" She was silent for a moment as she probed Aria's hidden thought, then she frowned and looked first to Rhian, then Erin. "No. Not Legolas. Then one of the hobbits. Samwise, Meriadoc, Peregrin, Frodo..." at the last name Aria trembled the slightest bit. "Ah! The Ring-bearer! Should his thought turn to her so we may have difficulty. And yet, to be sent on such a Quest may prove fatal without strong love to heal and to mend. Mayhap that should be its purpose.   
"Fear not, little one!" she said laughingly, speaking once again to Aria. She saw the red cheeks and bent head of the girl and touched her shoulder with a slender hand, as if to assure her that her secret was safe. "For I know," she continued in a gentler tone, "that love con hold sway over all but the strongest magic. So love the Ring-bearer! and perhaps you will be the saving of him. Yet yours also will be a choice like to that of Luthien's. You are not from his world, Aria. And worlds cannot mix with each other, except by necessity as in this case. I cannot see the end of your road if you choose to love this Frodo. But I fear it will be an evil one."   
The elf queen stood back to look at them. Slowly she nodded, and they stood to leave. As Rhian ran ahead with Aria, seeking Frodo, Erin as halted by the lady's hand on her arm. Galadriel was taller even than her, and lifted her chin so that their eyes met. "So. There is much suffering on the road you have chosen, as well. Where will your path end, I wonder?"

"I do not know, lady. But I will not refuse to follow it, whatever comes."

"So." Galadriel smiled. "You are not so bold as your sister, I think, but no less brave. I think the blood that runs in you will not be seen to retreat. So," she said again, and bent to kiss Erin's forehead. "I wish for you all that is good, golden one. May your path be clear and straight, and free of stones."

Erin walked swiftly away, her thoughts troubled, and was startled when she came upon Legolas. He was standing, silent and still, looking towards where Aria had gone. To late she moved to leave him alone, as he turned to her, but the need for words was removed by the Lady Galadriel calling to him. 

"Come here, Legolas," she said. Meekly he obeyed and stood before her, grey eyes meeting grey. "Did you hear what was said, Legolas?"   
"Yes, my Lady."   
"And it causes you pain. Yes, I can see this, though it is hidden from me why. You did not long stand under my gaze earlier today. What troubles you, Legolas?"   
"I have stretched out my hand for something I cannot take, my Lady."   
She looked deeply into his eyes, and he did not try to avoid her gaze, but instead met it head on, though he was afraid of what she would tell him.   
"I understand much, now. It is the young girl, is it not?" He nodded mutely. "You know that she loves another?"   
"Yes - my Lady." He choked back a break in his voice and strove to contain his composure.   
"Your time may come. But for now I can only give you my blessing, and free leave to wander this land and talk with its people."   
Legolas bowed his head, strands of gold slipping over his shoulder. "I thank you, my Lady." He then turned to leave, his hands hanging at his sides.   
"Legolas," Galadriel called suddenly.   
He turned back to her, standing silently and solidly in the moonlight.   
"One other thing I may give you. That you should see with clearer sight, Prince, and perceive what is hidden from other eyes." She stretched out to touch his forehead. "Do not let your grief cloud your vision."  
"Never, my Lady."   
"So. Keep your resolve, then, Legolas." Galadriel extended her hand to him and then turned and moved away through the trees.   


Legolas turned away once more, and saw Erin still standing beneath the trees. She was gazing skyward, but seemed to feel his gaze, for she looked at him suddenly. Moonlight fell across the golden tide of hair around her shoulders, and her brow seemed crowned with stars. 


	20. Farewell to Lorien

A/N: Wow, look, another one! Everyone join me in telling Legolas and Gimli what mean boys they are for not letting us in on their conversation. Here I sit, I've just typed out 'It was during these hours that Legolas sought Gimli out', because everyone's favorite elf tapped me on the shoulder and told me too, and now the creep won't tell me what was said! I mean really! You can't hide things from me, I'm the writer! *mutters to self* I bet he wasn't this strong-willed with ArwenAria18...I bet he did whatever she told him too like a good boy *grumble*grumble* Just for this I might make him wallow in misery some more. Oh yes, and ArwenAria18 had them stay in Lothlorien for a year, with her altered timeline. I decided to change it back to one month, for reasons of my own (important stuff happens later that will be a big enough pain to write if I don't have the book timeline to go by. Dear Prof. Tolkien sure makes my life easier with that timeline in Appendix B, so imaginary cookies for him). 

Chapter 20

Erin had blushed and turned away when she found Legolas staring at her in the dark. _He must believe I have been eavesdropping_, she thought. She hadn't, merely distracted herself with contemplating the night sky, not yet ready to join the company and speak aloud. Of course he couldn't know that, and, discomfited, she began to walk towards the sound of hobbit voices singing. After a little while she heard his footsteps as he came to walk beside her, but since he didn't speak, and she was unwilling to, they walked in silence and parted ways at the fountain. Erin went to the ladies' pavilion, where Rhian sat waiting in entrance, and Legolas watched her for a moment before turning to his own rest. 

The morning of the Fellowship's last day in Lorien was clear, golden sunlight lending vibrant shades to the leaves and grass as it shone through them, like strange stained glass. Only Aragorn and Legolas wandered the Golden Wood alone with their thoughts; the other members of the company walked or sat in clumps together, talking quietly or saying nothing, savoring the peace of Lothlorien even as they drew together once more into a unit. It was during these hours that Legolas sought Gimli out. 

[Author's interjection: Everyone, on three; one, two, three- '_Baaaaaaaaad_ Legolas! Don't keep things from the writer!']

That night the Company was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words. At length Celeborn spoke of their departure.

"Now is the time," he said, "when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Thos who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. For we are come now to the edge of doom. Here those who wish may await the oncoming of the hour till either the ways of the world lie open again, or we summon them to the last need of Lorien. Then they may return to their own lands, or else go to the long home of those that fall in battle." 

Aragorn turned to look at Aria and Erin. "Surely you will remain," he said. "Here you would be safe," he said. "I would not let you come on such a perilous journey, and it had been our plan to have you stay at the first safe place we came to."

Aria favored him with a scowl. "I will not remain behind while you go off into danger," Aria said indignantly. "You are my friends, and I mean to stay with you and do all I can to help." She would not be persuaded otherwise. 

Erin looked at him levelly in the eyes. "I go. You can not convince me to stay."

"Even if Lady Rhian remains?"

"You know I will not," Rhian told him. "I feel I must go on, to some purpose." 

He might have argued further, but Lady Galadriel raised her hand. There was a silence. "They all resolved to go forward," said Galadriel, looking into their eyes. Aragorn bowed his head. 

"As for me," said Boromir, "my way home lies onward and not back."

The talk continued for some time- They were to take boats down the broad Anduin, and depart at noon on the morrow. "Good night, my friends!" said Galadriel. "Sleep in peace! Do not trouble your thoughts overmuch with thoughts of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them. Good night!" Her kind smile lingered for a time on Aria, Erin, and Legolas, but it was Frodo who held her gaze as the Fellowship departed for the night. 

They gathered in the larger of the pavilions, debating long about the course they should take. Rhian could see that Aragorn was deeply troubled and torn between two paths. Only Boromir seemed sure of his road; "I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be," he looked at Rhian, "for it is my duty." His eyes left her and moved to Frodo, and he was quiet for a while. When he spoke again it was softly, almost to himself. "If you wish only to destroy the Ring," he said, "then there is little use in war and weapons; and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help. But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his dmain; and folly to throw away-" he cut off abruptly, his eyes jerking away from Frodo and meeting Rhian's. He went on again more slowly. "It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean," he said. "If is a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death. At least," he amended, "that is how I see it."

Rhian looked closely at Boromir's face- it seemed to her that there was something different in his eyes, something strange and new, and that his thoughts did not fully match his words. He watched her just as intently, his gaze almost seeming to weigh on her. She looked away; Frodo, she thought, saw what she did, but Aria was already asleep, as were Merry and Pippin, and Sam was nodding with his chin on his chest. The night was growing old. 

The morning of the next day seemed strangely grey for Lorien, and Rhian was slow to rise. She was dressed again for travel- The elves had given her soft leather boots laced to the knee, and over her dark green tunic was a leather one, sleeveless, that came down to mid-thigh and laced up the front so that it fit snugly without hindering movement. She felt that it was the elves way of recognizing her as a fighter, short of giving her armor. At least, it made her feel more war-like, to be wearing proper gear. She wore her long dagger on her belt, and resolved to keep her bow and quiver near at hand in the boat- and her sword, though she didn't know what good it might do her in a boat. Erin, too, wore her dagger, and her over-tunic was a blue grey, the fabric sturdy but soft. 

Dressed, they stepped outside, and were given cloaks made for the Fellowship by Galadriel and her maidens; light, but warm, the silky material woven by the Galadrim flowed over their shoulders and whispered around their feet. Rhian watched in awe as the color of them seemed to shift, grey, it seemed, at first; but then when shifted slightly green, or brown, and then silver again. Each cloak fastened at the neck with a brooch were like a green leaf veined with silver, but Aria's and Erin's were golden _elanor_ with three _niphredil_ of silver shimmering about them, and Rhian's leaf, on close inspection, was different in shape from the others. 

Rhian went to the fountain and touched the surface with her fingertips; "Farewell, Lorien," she murmured. 

Haldir was come to guide them to the boats. 

A/N: Yes, yes, I _know_, Aria doesn't have _The Lord of the Rings_. I cut that part out. No Asphel, either. I am all powerful. Mwahahahahaha. Review, and I'll make you one of my minions when I take over the world. 


	21. The Gifts of Galadriel

As they walked through Caras Galadon the green ways were empty; but in the trees above them many voices were murmuring and singing. They themselves went silently; it seemed to Rhian, as she looked about at their company, that each was trying to absorb the peace and beauty of Lorien, to soak it in as a guard against the perils that lay ahead. They went at last down a path that passed through the rolling woodlands of silver shadow, going down towards the shores of the River. 

It was noon by the time they reached it- Rhian looked across the water to the further shore, and the woodlands there seemed bleak and desolate, for no mallorn grew beyond the Land of Lorien. Haldir took the down the bank of the Silverlode, where there was a hythe of white stones and white wood. There were many boats moored there, and four grey boats had been made ready for them. As the elves took their gear and stowed it, the hobbits eyed the small craft warily. 

"'Tisn't right," Sam muttered. "Messing around on the water- not _natural_." 

"I've nothing against boats," Merry said. "I've even been known to go out on them, occasionally. Comes of being a Brandybuck- we're just naturally braver than you Hobbiton folk." 

There were several loud snorts from the other hobbits at that, and Pippin went forward, muttering to himself. The elves looked on in good humor as he edged out on the landing, eased one leg into the boat, then followed it with the rest of him in an ungraceful tumble. It rocked back and forth as he sat up shakily. "Only a little wobbly!" he called. Merry snorted.

It took the encouragement of both Aria and Frodo to get Sam into one of the boats, and he nearly tipped himself in more than once. Still, he faired better than Merry and Pippin, who overturned their boat almost immediately once they were both in it. 

The boats were at last launched some time later- Aragorn in the first with Frodo, Aria, and Sam, Erin and Rhian together- Rhian, laughing, finally had to admit she most certainly could _not_ row- then Boromir with Merry and Pippin, Legolas and Gimli behind. The last boat was laden with most of the packs and goods. They turned into the current, moving on up the Silverlode. There was a deep silence as they passed under the trees, where their branches stretched over the water- as Rhian watched, a golden leave swirled down gently, to float for a moment and then sink. She sighed and lifted her face to look ahead, around the bend in the river, and cried out with pleasure when she saw the craft that awaited them. 

It was a great white boat, shaped with exquisite beauty into the likeness of a swan, its wings half lifted from the water. In it sat Celeborn, and beside him stood Galadriel, shining like a star with golden flowers on her brow. She held a harp in her hands, and she sang. Rhian closed her eyes and let the sound wash over her. It held in it the sadness of elms and cedars when they relinquish their leaves in autumn. Spring had come before, but this year it would be diminished for them and altered to a different land.   


Then they were turned back to the hythe, where they ate and drank upon the grass in farewell to the Lord and Lady. When all was finished, and the cup of farewell had been brought to each of the company, the Lady bade them stand before her and receive her gifts. 

To Aragorn she gave a sheath of great beauty for Anduril, the sword that was broken and reforged. She spoke to him at length in a soft voice, and gave him also a green stone, set in a silver brooch like an eagle with its wings spread. 

To Boromir she gave a belt of gold, and to Merry and Pippin belts of silver, clasped with flowers of wrought gold. 

To Legolas she gave a bow of the Galadrim, and a quiver of arrows. 

To Sam, a box of earth from her orchard, and to Gimli three strands of golden hair. 

To the Ring-bearer, she gave a phial of starlight.

To Aria she spoke at length, and then touched her head in blessing before taking Frodo aside to speak with him. 

To Erin she gave a belt of silver, and a small white knife traced with silver flowers. "May you have peace, my child," the Lady said. "I can not give you what it is that you wish, but I send my blessings with you, and a wish that you take some of the peace of Lorien away in your heart." Erin bowed her head and did not speak.

To Rhian, she gave a leather case, with a strap to be worn across the chest, and when the golden leaf of the buckle was undone and the case opened, she drew out a beautiful harp. 

Rhian took the instrument with reverent hands, automatically resting it against her shoulder, fingers tracing lightly over the delicate work that twined over the curved frame. Interlacing vines in patterns that were both simple and complex covered it, but there was no other ornamentation but the fine sheen of the dark, glowing wood. The strings glinted in the sunlight, and Rhian stroked her fingers across them lightly. The sound was such that caused hearts to be broken and made whole again, all at once. The company seemed to catch its breath all at once, and Aria made a small sound- her lovely eyes sparkled with tears. Rhian looked to Galadriel as if for permission, then sank down on the grass, so that the harp could sit on her knee, and free both hands for playing. Cradling it to her shoulder like a baby, she began to play, drifting through chords, then slowly starting a simple melody. She began to sing softly, in little more than a whisper, as though she were unaware of what she was doing. 

__

Oh Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand  
And the more I think on you the more I think long  
If I had you now as I had once before  
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore. 

Oh Bonny Portmore I am sorry to see  
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree  
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day  
Till the long boats of Antrim came to float it away. 

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep  
Saying, "Where will we shelter, where will we sleep?"  
For the oak and the ash they are all cutten down  
And the walls of Bonny Portmore are all down to the ground. 

Oh Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand  
And the more I think on you the more I think long  
If I had you now as I had once before  
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore. 

She stopped, her hands stilling the strings, but the final mournful notes echoed across the sward. 

"What is this place that you sing of?" Galadriel asked finally.

"In Ireland, on the shore of Lough Beg, there was a great oak once...but the forests there were cut down, long ago. Long ago..." Rhian lifted her head, looking out and away, to where the golden forests of Lorien shone in the sunlight, but her eyes were blurred with tears and she could not see. The elven queen cupped her chin, gazing into her face; she kissed her forehead and released her. 

"Farewell, my child."

Now they were gone in truth from Lorien, and sadly Rhian watched as the golden land seemed to slip away behind them. 

A/N: And there you are. I finally got them out of Lorien (not that I didn't want to hang out there for_ever_, but you know how it is. Hanging out in peace and harmony doesn't make for much of an adventure story, and besides, Bryan and Jonathan and Lianne all got left hanging. So on to the exciting stuff! *bells and whistles and horns and drums and wot-not* Also, it occurred to me that for those who would like to hear some of this music I have been gleefully tossing about, I would be happy to record a verse or so and email it to you so you can get an idea of how it sounds. Mind you, they'll be bad recordings, and of my voice, and will take up lots of space in your inbox because sound files are, by nature, massive, but at least you'll get to hear the tune. Just review or email me (big_sissie@hotmail.com or the_eldest_princess@hotmail.com) with the song you'd like to hear, and I'll see what I can do for you. Anyway, I'm going to start writing the next chapter _right now_, so we'll see how soon I get that out. Exciting stuff should start happening soon, so watch this space! And please review. I love reviews. Reviewers get cookies. And gift-baskets. And I'll make you my minions when I take over the world. What fun, neh?


	22. Rhian Telling Stories Again

Chapter 22

Rhian's heart and mind were still full of the last song of Galadriel was Lorien vanished from their sight, and the river took them away. She sat in the prow- she thought the front was the prow, anyway- of the boat, looking back the way they had come. Behind them Merry and Pippin sat as near to the middle of their boat as they could get, eyeing the water distrustfully, and beyond them Gimli and Legolas spoke together, their faces grave. She looked skyward, squinting against the sun, and hugged the leather-cased harp to her chest. 

They were carried on, ever southward, past bare grey trees and beneath the ghostly, shadowing branches. Rhian fought the melancholy that settled in a hard lump within her chest, as the sky darkened, and she yearned for the gentle sky of Lorien. There were no stars to be seen through the mists, and it was cold. She drew the elven cloak around her, burying her hands in the folds. It was full dark before they drew near the grey shore and disembarked to make camp; Rhian's legs ached from the sitting, and Erin's hands were like ice. Frodo and Aria were both deeply asleep, and Aragorn lifted them out of the boat like children. They wrapped them in their blankets and left them to dream. There was little talk and no laughter as the others made camp. Rhian was glad to curl up between two massive tree roots, back to back with her sister, and shut her mind to the world.

In the morning they rose before it was full light, and set out again, and that day and night was much like the first. Rhian felt the greyness weigh heavy on her soul. The third day they made camp early, before full dark, and sat close around the small fire, unready for sleep. 

"Lady," Legolas said suddenly, "the Lady Galadriel called you by other than the name we know you by. How was this?"

"Oh," Rhian said, drawing her mind back from the darkness into the circle of the firelight. "She called me by my full name. Rhiannon Fiachra O'Connor. Rhian is just a short-name." 

"Like Merry and Pippin are for Meriadoc and Peregrin," Aria said promptly. 

"And you, Lady Erin? What was the name that you gave?"

"Raithnait," Erin said. "It is my first name, but when I was little I couldn't say it. So I went by Erin."

"So O'Connor...is your third name?"

"No- it is our last name, or surname; it was our father's last name, and his father's name."

"Like Brandybuck and Baggins and Gamgee," Aria pointed out. 

"Right."

"Do your names have meaning, then?" Frodo asked curiously. 

"_Rathnait _is Gaelic for 'little graceful one'," Erin said. 

"She grew into it," Rhian told them. Erin stuck out her tongue at her.

"...and Erin comes from _Eireann, _which comes from _Eirinn_, which comes from _Eire_, which is the Gaelic name for Ireland, the Emerald Isle. Our family comes from there, at least part of it."

Boromir looked at Rhian. "And you?" he asked.

Rhian grinned. "_Fiachra_ is actually a masculine name," she said. "It comes from _fiach_, the Gaelic word for 'raven'," she lifted her braid and shook it. "It was also the name of the patron saint of gardeners," she grinned at Sam, "and one of the children of Lir." 

"The who?"

"It's a long story," her grin widened, "but The Fate of the Children of Lir is one of the Three Sorrowful Tales of Erin; King Lir was married to Ove, the eldest daughter of King Dearg. Their children were born in sets of two; Fingula, the daughter, with Aod the son, and then later the sons Fiachra and Conn, whose birth was the death of Ove. Lir remarried to Oifa, Ove's sister, and they lived happily until Oifa became jealous of Lir's love for his children. She took them out with her in her chariot, and threw silver chains about their necks, and they were transformed into beautiful white swans."

"Oh!" Aria gasped. Rhian nodded.

"When Lir learned of his wife's treachery, he went to Dearg her father. Dearg asked Oifa was form she thought the worst of all forms on earth, and she answered him 'a demon of the air'. And so she too was transformed until the end of time." 

"And were the children swans forever?"

"Not quite. It was many years later- 900 years, according to some- that Lairgnen, Prince of Connaught, sought to capture the swans at the request of his bride Deoch, but when he removed the silver chains from their necks they became human again. But by now they were ancient, and they died within the hour."

"Oh," Aria said softly. "It is so _sad_!"

"Most Celtic stories are sad," Rhian said. "The story of Rhiannon, for instance, is full of grief."

"Another story?" Pippin asked. He and Merry had been dozing, but they were awake now. 

"If you want to know about Rhiannon."

"We do!" they chorused.

"Well then, Rhiannon is Welsh, from _Rigantona_, which means 'great queen'. Pwyll was Prince of the Dyfed, and had already had many adventures of note when he chose to walk the top of a great mound, called _Gorsedd Arberth_, of which it was said that if a man of noble birth should take his seat there, he would come away either covered with wounds, or having seen something wondrous. Pwyll was not afraid of wounds, and he wished to see what this thing might be. And so he and his men climbed, and sat, and waited, and at length a lady appeared on the road below, mounted on a pearly white steed, and clothed in silk, brocaded with gold. Pwyll inquired of his men but none of them knew her, and so he sent one of them to ask her name, but could not catch up to her, though her horse seemed to be walking at a gentle pace. And so the fastest horse in Dyfed was fetched, and ran like the wind, and still he drew no closer to the beautiful lady. It was agreed that some magic was afoot, but Pwyll was determined. At last on the third night as he galloped after he called 'Lady, for the sake of the man you most love, wait for me', and she stopped She told him that she was Rhiannon, daughter of Hefeydd the Elder, and that she was pledged in marriage to a man she despised, for she was unwilling to marry any save Pwyll himself, and he knew of no maiden or lady in the world that he would rather have as his wife; and so it was arranged that in a years time he should come to the court of Hefeydd and claim her for his wife."

"It doesn't sound sad to _me_," Merry said. 

"Just you wait, my young gentlehobbit," Rhian told him. "Pwyll went after the year had past to Hefeydd's court with a hundred men, and great was the feasting upon their arrival. But when the meal had ended and the songs were begun, and man entered the hall. Pwyll, in good cheer, bade him sit with them, but he would not, 'until' he said 'you grant me what I am here for.' 'You shall have what you desire,' Pwyll promised rashly, and Rhiannon chastised him for his hastiness, for this was Gwawl son of Clud, the man who wished to take Rhiannon against her will, and it was for this he had come; Pwyll could not go back on his word, and that which Gwawl desired was to take Pwyll's place as bridegroom."

"Oh!" Aria exclaimed.

"Exactly. Rhiannon, however, was clever, and told Pwyll to keep his word, and she would prevent Gwawl from taking her."

"How?"

"Rhiannon agreed to tryst with Gwawl in one year's time, as she had with Pwyll, and so he came; but Pwyll came also, dressed as a beggar as Rhiannon has instructed him. When they were merrymaking in the hall he entered, and asked a boon. 'So long as it is reasonable,' Gwawl said, 'you shall have what you ask'. Pwyll, the beggar, asked that his small bag be filled with food, and Gwawl, thinking this a humble enough request, said that it should be so. But though the servants did all they could, they could not make the small back full. Gwawl demanded if it should _ever_ be full. 'Only,' Pwyll told him, 'if the greatest man in the kingdom presses the food in with his feet.' And so Gwawl, who was arrogant, had no sooner stepped in the bag than it was up and over his head, and bound shut with leather thongs."

Merry and Pippin laughed out loud. "He was rather asking for it, wasn't he?"

"Yes- Pwyll released him after he swore to seek no vengeance and cause no more trouble, and Pwyll and Rhiannon were married, and lived in happiness in Dyfed for two years. In the third year, a son was born to Rhiannon, and six women were called to watch the boy's first night. But by midnight they were all asleep, and in the morning the boy was gone. They were afraid, because they knew they would be blaimed, and so they took the pups of one of the hounds, and killed them, and scattered the bones in Rhiannon's bed and smeared her with the blood, and agreed to swear that Rhiannon had killed her child in her sleep." The entire company stiffened with outrage, but Rhian waved them to silence. "The Druids, who made the judgments, believe the women and said that as punishment, Rhiannon should sit outside the court by the horse mounting block for seven years, and offer to carry anyone who would let her. Few did, but so she spent the year. 

"Now, in those days Teyrnon Twryf Liant ruled Gwent Is-Coed, and at that same time, through singularly strange circumstances, he found upon his doorstep a baby boy wrapped in gold brocade. Teyrnon and his wife called him Gwri of the Golden Hair, and raised him as their own until he was four years old- it was then they heard the news of Rhiannon and her punishment, and Teyrnon, pondering it, found it had taken place on the same May-Eve that the boy had been found. Realizing who he was-"

"Who?"

"Rhiannon's son, _of course_." Rhian wrinkled her nose at Pippin. "I know you can recite the names of all your grandfathers backwards and forwards, you should have no trouble with a simple story. Don't interrupt." The hobbit muttered sulkily to himself, but Rhian ignored him. "There was great rejoicing at the homecoming of Rhiannon's son, and her and was renamed 'Pryderi', the Celtic word for 'care', but upon his return Rhiannon's care was lifted from her."


	23. Attack on the River

Chapter 23

The grey trees on the banks had thinned and disappeared, and now only desolation surrounded them; the Brown Lands were a blasted waste, empty of anything, stretching out to the east. To the west there were patches of grassy plain, and forests of great reeds, but no trees. They saw no living thing except the birds. Rhian was slowly learning to row- the boat wobbled back and forth, and zigzagged across the water as much as the current would allow, but at least it did not overturn. But most of the time Erin guided them, claiming that Rhian's 'bobbing about' made her sick- really she simply enjoyed it. Rhian, instead, lay back in the prow, staring sky-ward, and played the harp of Lorien. The sound of it helped to lift away the darkness that seemed to hover over them, following them since they left the Golden Queen's domain. Once, as she was drifting in her thoughts, Rhian heard a great rush of wings above them and sat up with a cry- "_Look!_" It was a great phalanx of swans rushing across the sky; and they were black. "'I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over,'" Rhian whispered. "'And what did I see I had not seen before? Only a question less or a question more; Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.'"* She leaned back against prow again. "This country goes on forever," she side. "On forever, and all empty."

"Not empty," Erin said. "It's got _us_ in it, after all."

Rhian smiled. 

It did have them in it, and any who wished might see them there. This knowledge, that they were exposed and shelterless in their small boats, surrounded by this empty land, grew on the minds of the company. Even the hobbits were uncomfortably aware of their insecurity, and the men- and Rhian and Erin- were on edge. They spoke in whispers and made little noise, hastening forward. Soon the river became wider and more shallow, and there were often long, stony beaches on either side. The land about them was still bare, brown and empty. The members of the company now spoke not at all, and were occupied by their own thoughts. Rhian, looking from one face to the next, saw Boromir muttering under his breath. She stared at him in surprise, for she had never seen him look so restless and agitated, even when he balked at entering Lothlorien. Merry and Pippin, in the boat before him, looked nervous as his paddling drove them near Aragorn's boat, then fell back only to go forward swiftly again. Boromir looked up suddenly and met her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably at the strange gleam in his piercing gaze. He seemed to decide something, and looked away. 

Erin had given up, and let her mind wander to Legolas. Because of the arrangement of the boats, she did not see him at all except for when they were camped, and then she was too tired to be tortured by watching him watch Aria. When she rose she was usually still tired, and did not remember her dreams, although she knew he was in them. But during the day she could not stop the scene Galadriel had shown her from replaying constantly in her mind, and her heart ached with it. _You are being **pathetic**_, she told herself. _You're acting like a character from one of those soppy romance novels_. But she couldn't stop her thoughts from spiraling down into self-pity and despair. So she focused herself on the oars instead, throwing her concentration into the smooth, steady motion. Sometimes she took her eyes from the water to study her sister, who sat lost inside herself. The shadow that covered them somehow seemed to rest harder on Rhian than on Erin, and it puzzled her; during one of their nights in Lorien, when they had slept out on the grass, Rhian has said that she felt as though there was something pulling at her, something she was supposed to do, or remember, but she didn't know what. The peace of the Golden Wood had calmed the restlessness, and before that her wound had limited her, but now, trapped beneath the endless sky, her sister seemed almost unable to bear it. 

As dusk drew down on the fourth day, Rhian found herself looking impatiently from one bank to the next, her eyes flickering over the boats behind them, turning to look at Aragorn's boat before them, as though it might have disappeared. Some presence nagged at her apart from the plaguing restlessness, but she could not find its source. As she looked back once more to the way they had come, her glance met Boromir's, and she shied away from his gaze, looking out over the water. Something caught her sight, and she tensed, her brows drawing together and she tried harder to see whatever it was, but even as she looked it seemed to disappear. Rhian sat back with a frown, puzzled, her mind gnawing at that half-seen...whatever it was. 

That night they camped on a tiny island near the bank. As the long day had dragged on, Rhian let the sound of the water and the gentle movement of the boat lull her to sleep- she had taken the last watch the night before, and weariness at last overcame the tense itching in her shoulders. But she had slept with her legs bent up beneath her, and when Rhian tried to get out of the boat after Erin, she fell back with a wince. Her stiff legs would not hold her weight, and when she tried to straighten them pain shot up her thighs. She bit back a harsh moan and gripped the sides of the boat, muttering curses directed at her traitorous legs, and began trying to leverage herself up, hoping she wouldn't pitch herself into the water. She had only managed a few inches off the wooden seat when strong arms scooped her up into the air. Rhian, twisting her head around in alarm, found herself nose to nose with Boromir. He didn't meet her eyes, but took his foot out of the water and carried her to Erin. 

Her sister had gone to the aid of little Samwise- who insisted on carrying both his pack and Frodo's as he climbed from the boat, and nearly drowned himself as a result- but she turned back with a cry of dismay when she saw Rhian in Boromir's arms. The warrior of Gondor said nothing, only set Rhian down upon the sparse turf and began unlacing her boots while Rhian was distracted with calming her sister. "I'm _fine_. I just made the mistake of sitting on my legs all day and I'm sti- ow!" she yelped as Boromir rubbed at her stocking foot. "That _hurts_." 

"It's your own fault," Pippin quipped, "if we can't trust you to sit properly I don't know what we're- eep!" He dodged Rhian's hand as she swiped at him. 

"You hush, Mr. Took, or I shall sit on _you_- ow!"

Erin, where she sat at Rhian's shoulder, was not distracted by the hobbit's play. She was watching Boromir, thinking it passing strange that a man of this place and time should make free with her sister's boots.

Eight days they had been upon the water, and Rhian felt each one keenly. She filled the long silences with fighting to remember all of the longest poetry she knew, monologues she had memorized; she remembered more than she would have expected, but even so it seemed to her that her memories of that former world were fading behind a misty veil, even as the pages of _The Lord of the Rings_ were blank. Sometimes she played softly on the harp of Lorien, but she did not sing. It did not feel right, to break the heavy silence. The thin crescent of the moon had fallen early into the pale sunset, but the sky was clear above, and though far away in the South there were great ranges of cloud that still shone faintly, in the West stars glinted bright. 

"Come!" said Aragorn. "We will venture one more journey by night. We are coming to the reaches of the River that I do not know well; for I have never journeyed by water in these parts before, not between here and the rapids of Sarn Gebir." 

Sam was set as watchman in the foremost boat, and those not trusted with oars lay down and slept. 

The night was dark, the stars bright and strangely sharp overhead as they drifted. Suddenly Sam's shout roused them all, as a dark shape loomed before him in the water, now white with froth and moving far to swiftly for comfort. The current swept them out and around, and they could see by the stars the river foaming against sharp, teeth-like rocks. _Thud!_ Erin's boat collided with Aragorn's before them, even as Boromir was shoved into them from behind. The boats were now huddled close together, as they drove their paddles in and sought to hold the boats. 

"Aragorn!" Boromir shouted over the roaring water. "This is madness! We cannot dare the rapids by night!" Erin missed Aragorn's reply as she fought with the river, shoving the small boat back from the rocks. They battled fiercely against the current, making for the shore. Boromir was shouting again, but Erin was distracted by the grating of the keel against stone. Rhian flinched, gripping the sides of the boat until her fingers were white. She looked out in to the darkness around them, feeling a cold fear. "Erin..." she said softly, "I think-" Aria screamed, and Rhian swung around in time to see Sam push her down between the packs- a black arrow was stuck in the links of Frodo's mithril coat. 

"_Yrch!_" Legolas shouted, falling in to his own tongue. 

The whistling shafts were all about them now, two of them striking the sisters' boat with a sickening _cthunk _and lodging fast in the pale wood. 

"Erin, get down!" Rhian shouted, fumbling for her bow, but her sister shook her head.

"You can't row! We must get off the water!" More arrows hissed in to the water about them, but no more struck as they fought their way off the stone shoal and back up the river, turning to the western shore, thrusting forward with all their strength. As they struck the bank, sheltered beneath the overhanging brush, Legolas leapt from his boat, rapidly stringing his bow- Rhian moved at his heels, her bow already strung with an arrow at the ready. 

Erin, beneath them, watched as the two archers searched the darkness for targets. The two figures were dark, crowned from behind by the stars. Only the stars were being blotted out by a rising darkness, and Erin shrank back in the boat as a terrible coldness spread over her. Foreboding filled her heart as a black cheer went up from their enemies. She heard a harsh gasp behind her and turned to see Frodo crouched in the bottom of his boat, one hand pressed hard against his shoulder. 

"_Elbereth Gilthoniel_," Rhian heard Legolas whisper. The black shape grew larger and nearer, and seemed to Rhian like a great dark bird. She shuddered, but drew her bow as Legolas did, fighting to keep her hands steady. The bow of Lorien sang out, but Rhian held back, waiting- but there was no need. A hideous cry echoed from above, and the black shape swerved away, leaving the sky clear. "Oh, well met, son of Mirkwood," she whispered. Across the river they heard cries of dismay and fear, and there were no more arrows that night.

They pressed upstream along the bank until they came to a small bay, where they made ready to await the dawn- they would get no farther in the darkness, but they did not make camp or a light a fire, but stayed in the boats, moored close together. As they settled for sleep, Aria stepped into Erin's boat and leaned across the water to catch Legolas' hand. "That was a wonderful shot, Legolas," she whispered, and squeeze his hand gently in thanks. The elf prince started, but recovered quickly, giving the hobbit girl a warm smile before she turned back, stepping over Rhian's legs carefully, and taking Frodo's hands as he helped her into their boat. Legolas sighed faintly, but despair did not consume him as it once might have, and a second light touch on his arm distracted him. Erin said nothing, only pressed lightly before taking her hand away, but the elf was quick and caught it. He held her fingers tightly for a moment, looking at her eyes. Then he nodded, smiling at her as he let go, and Erin lay down in the boat, feeling suddenly warm and peaceful. She slept well and free of dreams that pained her. 

A/N: Aw, wasn't that nice? _Wasn't it_? Oh yes, I thought so too. I'm very very sorry this took so long, Kaytlyn (you're the only person still reading this, of course, so I write it purely for you pleasure. Don't you feel special?). It got horribly stuck halfway through the chapter, and I had to kick my way through it. The Rhian/Boromir scene didn't convey half of what I wanted it to, but then the Legolas/Erin thing happened, and that was _totally_ unexpected and I like it, so all it good and evens out in the cosmos and things. Hurrah. Now I want to hurry up and send everyone off on their seperate ways, because I have got Cool Stuff coming. And we need to get all caught up with Jonathan and everybody, don't we? Weee-heee! 

*from _Wild Swans_, by Edna St. Vincent Millay- the full poem is; 

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.

And what did I see I had not seen before?

Only a question less or a question more;

Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.

Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,

House without air, I leave you and lock your door.

Wild swans, come over the town, come over

The town again, trailing your legs and crying! (note: if there is currently a copyright on this poem, I don't know about it, so don't sue me because I have no money)


	24. Choices

A/N: All right, ladies, this is it- from here on out I can't follow ArwenAria18's story anymore and it's all me (though with massive amounts of input and advise from ArwenAria8). Yes, I know, I haven't really been following hers ever since I didn't kill off Boromir, but I have been using it to write Aria. So now it's going to be me writing Aria. Eep. But anyway. New chapter! It's a short one, though. 

Chapter 24

The morning after the attack dawned soft, and sad. Mist rose up from the river, and white fog swathed the bank- as Rhian sat up, squinting, she found she could not see the far shore. It was as though they were the only creatures in all the world, and this was a realm separate from all other realms- melancholy, pale, and silent. But her fey mood did not last; she was _hungry._ She found wafers of _lembas_ in one of the packs and ate quietly, listening. She discovered that not all the Fellowship had slept- Aragorn had bid the men be sleepless and keep hold of their weapons while the sisters and Aria slept. Rhian frowned at him darkly but he refused to take notice. 

"I can't abide fog," said Sam decidedly, "But this seems to be a lucky one. Now perhaps we can get away without those cursed goblins seeing us."

"Perhaps so," said Aragorn. "But it will be hard to find the path unless the fog lifts a little later on." Rhian shivered at the thought of wandering lost in the whiteness.

"I do not see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the River any further," said Boromir. His eyes had strayed to Rhian where she sat listening. She felt his gaze and looked up. "If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats, and strike westward and southward, until we come to the Entwash and cross into my own land." _My own land_. Rhian felt Boromir's pride echo strongly in those words. 

"We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith," said Aragorn, "but that is not yet agreed." 

Rhian was distracted from their talk by her sister waking. Erin's arms and shoulders were stiff and sore from fighting the current alone last night- but Rhian would have done more harm than good, they both knew. As her sister ate, Rhian combed out and re-braided her long, blonde hair, and then they sat and listened as the debate went on, Boromir holding out for Minas Tirith, and Aragorn for the river. Frodo sided with Aragorn, though, and eventually Boromir gave in. 

"It is not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need," he said, "and you will need my strength, if ever you are to reach the Tindrock. To the tall isle I will go, but no further. There I shall turn to my home, alone if my help has not earned me the reward of companionship." His glance went to Rhian again, but this time only for a moment, a brief flicker of eyes.

Aragorn and Legolas, it was decided, would seek for the path, while the others waited in the boats, hemmed in by fog. It was only a few hours, though, before they returned- the path was clear. The boats were light, and easily carried across flat ground, but it took the strength of Aragorn and Boromir to wrestle them up the rough slope and through the trees. As the Men went up and down with one boat at a time, the others carried the baggage. "Oof," Merry commented. "Up and down the hill, up and down the hill- if hobbits had been meant for this sort of labor, we would have cloven hooves an- ow!" He glared up at Rhian, who has smacked the back of his head lightly.

"You're wasting air," she said crisply. "If you weren't meant for this sort of thing, why have you got legs?"

"For," he said with dignity, "walking to and from the nearest inn. Ow!"

The dusk was setting in before all was moved to the portage way, which ran gently down to the shallow edge of a little pool. Erin marveled at it- it seemed to have been scooped out of the bank by the rushing current swirling down from the Rapids. Beyond that point, the shore rose up into steep grey cliff- to go farther they would be forced to take to the water again. Aragorn decided that two should watch at once, and Rhian volunteered for the first. Erin would have joined her, but she was too tired to object much when Rhian insisted she sleep, and Boromir took her place. 

Rhian sat with her back to a tree, her sword lying near her hand. She started when Boromir touched her shoulder.

"Forgive me, lady. I did not mean to startle you."

"That's all right," Rhian muttered, embarrassed at her jumpiness. The warrior sat beside her.

"Tell me, lady, what path will you take, when we reach this Amon Hen Aragorn speaks of?"

She stared at him in surprise. "I do not know. 'Til now I have only followed a prodding in my heart, that I should come."

"Your heart does not prod you towards one path or another? Does it not urge you to come with me to Minas Tirith? Or to follow the Ring-bearer into darkness?"

Rhian watched him steadily, unsure of what to answer. "No. It gives me no guidance, yet. Only that I should press on. When the time comes, maybe, I will feel compelled." For a long moment silence hung between them, and Rhian shifted uncomfortably. "You will return, though, to your city?"

"Yes," Boromir said, his eyes brightening. 

"To hear you speak, it must be great indeed. I hope I shall see it some day."

Boromir reached out and caught her wrist. "Then come! Come with me when I leave this company, and I shall show you my city!"

"Perhaps," Rhian said, drawing her hand away. "We shall see, when the time comes." Boromir's eyes were bright and fierce in the darkness, and Rhian wondered at his strange look. A light drizzle began to fall, and she rose to find her cloak and hood. 

The rest of the night was quiet, and the tenth day of their journey dawned clear- the rain had thinned the fog. They kept close to the western cliff, though, and by mid morning the clouds and drawn down and the rain began in earnest. Rhian drew the skin cover over their boat and lashed it in place so that they would not be flooded, and she and Erin sat by each other, hoods pulled low to keep out the rain. All about them they could see little throught the grey falling curtains. Rhian didn't like it, and was grateful that it ended soon, leaving bright sun behind. Erin gasped at the great ravine that lay before them, massive grey walls of stone rising up- here and there a particularly stubborn tree clung to a ledge, but that was all. The channel grew narrower as they sped along, led by the current. 

Rhian leaned forward and squinted- in the distance she could see two great pillars of stone approaching. They stood, massive, on either side of the stream, and their small boats were swept by the river towards a narrow gap between them. 

"Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!" shouted Aragorn. "We shall pass them soon. Keep the boats in line, and as far apart as you can! Hold the middle of the stream!"

Rhian's head fell back and her mouth opened with awe as she stared up at the great statues of the mighty, bygone kings, before they were swept in to the dark chasm of the Gates. Sheer and dreadful cliffs rose up around them, and from the boat ahead she hear Sam muttering unhappily. But then suddenly they were out again, thrust in to the sunshine.

They drifted out through the middle of a great, shining lake, and at its far end Rhian could see three great peaks. One stood farther out from the others, standing in the water on its own. "Behold Tol Brandir!" said Aragorn, pointing. "Upon the left stands Amon Lhaw, and upon the right is Amon Hen, the Hills of Hearing and of Sight."

They pressed onward through the twilight towards the three hills, and it was full night when they reached them at last. The roar of the great falls filled the air, and now they could go no farther until a decision was made. So ended the tenth day.

The dawn came like fire and smoke. Low int he East there were black bars of cloud like the fumes of a great burning. The rising sun lit them from beneath with flames of murky red, but soon it climbed above them in a clear sky. 

The company gathered in a circle. "The day has come at last," he said, "the day of choice which we have long delayed. What shall now become of our company? Shall we turn west with Boromir and go to the wars of Gondor, or turn east to the Fear and Shadow; or shall we break our fellowship and go this way and that as each may choose? We can not halt long here, for I fear Orcs may already be on this side of the river. We must choose swiftly." He paused, and looked to Rhian, Erin, and Aria. "You would not remain in Lorien," he said, "but I would beg you to go to the safety of Minas Tirith with Boromir, if I thought you would go."

"I'm staying with Frodo," Aria said firmly, reaching for the hobbit's hand. He squeezed her fingers tightly. Aragorn looked to Rhian. 

"You know I have come this far because I have felt compelled to come. I feel no guidance now as to my path. I know it remains yet for me to move ahead, but I can not say where. When I search my heart, all I feel is that I must wait. But for now I say I will stand by Aria, and Frodo."

Aragorn sighed. "So I thought it would be," he said. He looked at Erin.

"You know I must go with my sister," she said softly.

"I know." Aragorn turned to Frodo. "Well, Frodo, I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the Bearer appointed by the Council. Your own way you alone can choose. I can not advise you. I am not Gandalf, and I do not know what design or hope he had for this hour, if indeed he had any. Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate."

Frodo did not answer at once. His head was bowed and his hand clasped tight in Aria's. "I know that haste is needed, yet I cannot choose. The burden is heavy. Give me an hour longer, and I will speak. Let me be alone!" He looked at Aria quickly, but she squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his cheek before letting go. 

Aragorn looked at Frodo with kindly pity. "Very well, Frodo," he said. "You shall have an hour, and you shall be alone. We will stay here for a while. But do not stray far or out of call." Frodo nodded, sitting with his head bowed for a moment before rising and turning away. Rhian was careful not to stare after him, and found that Boromir's eyes followed him intently, until he passed out of sight among the trees. 


	25. The Breaking of the Fellowship

Chapter 25

Rhian paced restlessly, stopping now and then to cast small stones in to the river. The strange sense of destiny that she had felt pulling her now seemed to be setting all her nerves on edge; change was coming, and soon, somehow, she would be thrust in to whatever it was that had brought her here. 

Erin sat at Aria's side, clasping the hobbit girl's hand in hers. After a little while Rhian came to sit beside them, and one by the others did as well, starting with Sam, who clumsily patted Aria's and muttered that he 'was sure all would come out right, you'll see'. She gave him a wane smile and squeezed Erin's hand. 

Soon the fellowship was gathered in a circle, talking quietly amongst themselves. Rhian questioned Aragorn about the ancient history of Gondor, and the remnants of its glory that they had seen as they passed down the river. But this did not last long; none of them could keep their minds from Frodo, and his decision. The unspoken questions hovered in their minds- What would he choose? Why was he hesitating?

"He is debating which course is the most desperate, I think," said Aragorn. "And well he may. It is now more hopeless than ever for the Company to go east, since we have been tracked by Gollum, and must fear that the secret of our journey is already betrayed. But Minas Tirith is no nearer to the Fire and the destruction of the Burden." There was a cold pause as they remembered the weight Frodo carried. "We may remain there for a while and make a brave stand," Aragorn went on; "but the Lord Denethor and all his men cannot hope to do what even Elrond said was beyond his power: either to keep the Burden secret, or to hold off the full might of the Enemy when he comes to take it. Which way would any of us choose in Frodo's place? I do not know. Now indeed we miss Gandalf most."

"Grievous is our loss," said Legolas. "Yet we must needs to make up our own minds without his aid. Why cannot we decide, and so help Frodo?" The elf's voice was questioning, as he thought of the small figure disappearing in to the trees. "Let us call him and then vote! I should vote for Minas Tirith."

"And so should I," said Gimli. "We, of course, were only sent to help the Bearer along the road, to go no futher than we wished; and none of us is under any oath or command to seek Mount Doom. Hard was my parting from Lothlorien." Rhian felt a ghost of a smile cross her lips at the thought of the dwarf's awe of the Lady Galadriel. "Yet I have come so far, and I say this: now we have reached the last choice, it is clear to me that I cannot leave Frodo. I would choose Minas Tirith, but if he does not, then I follow him." 

"Well said," Rhian murmured, but even as she spoke her thoughts were drawn inward. She could feel the pull of her destiny, like a rope bound to her chest, tugging her this way and that as the path of the Fellowship was discussed. _Soon, soon_. She tensed against it, and looked up sharply. The others, intent in discussion around her, did not notice, but Erin touched her sister's arm. Rhian did not remember later what she said, but she slid back from the circle and stood, looking to the trees. 

And saw Boromir, striding off in to the shadows. Without a thought, she followed after him. 

The way up was steep, and Rhian was stiff from days in the boat. It didn't take long for her thighs to begin to ache as she zig-zagged in between the trees. Ahead of her Boromir was walking swiftly, and she found it difficult to keep sight of him. At last she paused, sagging against a tree. She thought she must be near the top, for the sound of Rauros- a mightly roaring mingled with a deep throbbing _boom_- seemed to be below her. She pushed herself and made to go on, but paused at the sound of voices. 

"I was afraid for you, Frodo," said Boromir's voice, sounding some ways above her. "If Aragorn is right and Orcs are near, then none of us should wander alone, and you least of all: so much depends on you." 

Something in his voice sounded..._wrong_ to Rhian. She started again up the slope, but as she moved so did the wind, and some of their speach was lost to her. Brief snatches came down as she climbed upward; "Are you sure thyat you do not suffer needlessly?" Boromir asked. ... "I think I know already what counsel you would give," said Frodo. Rhian wished she could hear more clearly, when Boromir's voice was raised sharply. "Warning? Warning against what?" Rhian started, and her foot slipped. She snatched at a tree as her boots went out from under her, wincing as the rough bark scraped the palms of her hands. Her hold was precarious, and the branch not strong at all. It bent as she fought to find her footing again, and she braced herself to tumble backwards down the slope if it broke. But it held, barely, as she planted her feet and leaned forward to grasp at another farther ahead. 

The sound of voices grew stronger, and as the wind shifted again she could hear Boromir clearly. His voice had grown louder, harsher; "We of Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trail. We do not desire the power of wizard-lors, only strength to defend ourselves, strength in a just cause. And behold! in our need chance brings to light the Ring of Power. It is a gift, I say; a gift to the foes of Mordor. It is mad not to use it, to use the power of the enemy against him. The fearless, the ruthless, these alone will achieve victory. What could not a warrior do in this hour, a great leader? What could not Aragorn do? Or if he refuses, _why not Boromir?_ The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!" He went on, his voice growing ever louder, more intense, describing great plans for glorious victories, as _he_ became a mighty king. 

Rhian was sick at heart as she at last broke through the trees and came to the open, grassy spot where the two stood. Boromir was unaware, lost to his surroundings as he spoke of weapons and alliances and musterings of men. Frodo too did not see or hear her, gazing with horror at the man before him. Suddenly Boromir stopped, turning and raising his arms. "And they tell us to throw it away!" he cried. "I-" He stopped as he saw Rhian, standing at the edge of the trees. Her ankle was twisted and painful, her mind reeling with what she had heard. And so she was to overwhelmed to move as Boromir strode to her, catching up on of her hands. His face was twisted with some emotion she had never seen before, his eyes alight. Frodo twisted around, staring at Rhian in surprise.

"_You_ know, surely!" Boromir cried. "Is it not folly, to destroy such a gift? Is it not?" Rhian struggled to find her voice, but she could not seem to speak beneath his fiery gaze. _He is mad_, she thought wildly. But Boromir did not pause, but rounded on Frodo, still grasping her hand. "Will you not come to Minas Tirith?" 

The hobbit edged back, glancing from Boromir to Rhian's stricken face. "Why are you so unfriendly?" Boromir said, his voice suddenly angry, his hand tightening on Rhian's wrist. "I am a true man, no thief. I need your Ring: but I give you my word that I do not desire to keep it! Will you not let me make a trial of my plan?" He turned his burning eyes on Rhian again, grasping her shoulder with the hand that did not hold hers and shaking her. "Persuade him!" he cried. "I will make Gondor great again! The greatest king of all the ages! We will rebuild my city, you and I! Together! Were you not sent here to be my queen? And with the Ring my kingdom will be more than worthy of you! Persuade him!"

"Boromir, you do not know what you are saying!" Rhian cried. She had only thought herself overwhelmed before. A queen! She stared at Boromir, shocked and pale, but he did not seem to hear her. He was turned again to Frodo. 

"Lend me the Ring!"

"No! no!" said Frodo. "The Council laid upon me to bear it!" 

"It is by our own folly that the Enemy will defeat us," cried Boromir. "How it angers me! Fool! Obstinate fool!" His hand on Rhian's wrist tightened until she cried out, but he took no notice. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It might have been mine. It should have been mine! Give it to me!" He took a step toward Frodo, jerking Rhian with him. She flinched as her weight came down on her hurt ankle, but Boromir still took no notice of her, as though he had forgotten he held her. 

Frodo didn't answer, but moved away until the great stone in the center of the clearing was between them. "Come, come, my friend!" Boromir said softly. "Why not get rid of it? Why not be free of your doubt and fear? You can lay the blame on me, if you will. You can say that I was too strong and took it by force. For I am to strong for you, halfling!" he cried, and suddenly he cast Rhian's hand aside violently and leapt over the stone, grasping at Frodo- but even as Frodo dodged away, the man fell heavily to the ground with a cry as Rhian thudded in to his back, grasping blindly at his neck. 

"Run, Frodo!" she screamed, as Boromir twisted in her grip. She was not strong enough to hold him and he shoved her off; but Frodo had already vanished. "Miserable trickster!" he shouted, and turned on Rhian with an angry growl, striking her hard across the face with the back of his hand. Her head snapped sideways, darkness exploding behind her eyes. She slumped to the ground and lay still. 

Boromir remained kneeling over her, frozen, staring in horror at her still form. Suddenly he began to weep, and stretched out a trembling hand towards her, then drew it back. He dashed the tears away from his eyes, looking around him desperately. He moved to lift her, then thought better of it, fearing to hurt her more, or tumble the two of them down the slope. At last he bent to pull her cloak over her and went swiftly down the hill. 

In the camp below, Boromir's presence had been missed, when Sam turned to address him and found him gone. "Now where's he got to?" said Sam. "He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind."

"Perhaps that is where Rhian went- to look for him," Erin suggested softly. Sam shrugged, going on with his thought, but soon their thoughts turned to the time, and Frodo. 

"The hour is long passed," said Aragorn. "We must call for him." It was then that Boromir reappeared, looking grim and sad. "Where have you been, Boromir?" asked Aragorn. "Have you seen Frodo?"

"Have you seen Rhian?" added Erin. 

"Yes," Boromir hesitated, "and yes, after a fashion. I found Frodo and spoke to him. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith. I grew angry and he left me. I think he must have put the ring on. The Lady Rhian came upon us. She...she lies above, on the hill."

"Lies? What do you mean?" Erin leapt to her feet, suddenly anxious. "Not-"

"No," Boromir said shortly. He looked about to speak again, but then closed his mouth. Aragorn looked at him hard.

"Is that all you have to say?" he asked, not too kindly.

"Yes," said Boromir. "I will say no more yet." And turned away.

"This is bad!" cried Sam, jumping up. "I don't know what this Man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put the thing on? He didn't ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happened!"

"But he wouldn't keep it on," said Merry. "Not when he had escaped the unwelcome visitor, like Bilbo used to."

"But where did he go? Where is he?" cried Pippin. "He's been away ages now."

"And where is my sister?" Erin demanded, looking hard at Boromir now, her hand on the hilt of the slender knife Galadriel at given her in an unfamiliar gesture. 

"She lies on the hill above! Are you not listening? She has been struck down, now go and tend her!" he cried, and put his head in his hands, sitting as if bowed with grief. Erin turned without a word and fled in to the trees, Aria at her heels. They cold hear her clear, high voice calling _Frodo! Frodo! Rhian!_ It seemed to jerk the others out of their frozen state. 

"We must try and find Frodo at once!" shouted Sam. "Come on!"

"Wait a moment!" cried Aragorn. "We must divide up into pairs, and arrange- here, hold on! Wait!"

It was no good. They took no notice of him. Sam had dashed off first, .and Merry and Pippin had followed, and were already disappearing westward into the trees by the shore, shouting _Frodo! Frodo! _Legolas and Gimli too were running. A sudden panic seemed to have fallen on the Company. 

"We shall all be scattered and lost," groaned Aragorn. "Boromir! I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, but help now! Go after those two young hobbits, and guard them at the least, even if you cannot find Frodo. Come back to this spot, if you find him, or any traces of him. I shall return soon."

On the hill above, Erin broke from the trees and fell to the ground beside her sister. She was breathing evenly, but a dark bruise was spreading on her cheek, and she stirred with a faint groan of pain. Erin looked around desperately, unknowingly doing as Boromir has before. Her eyes fell on Aria as she came out in to the clearing, gasping for breath; the little hobbit girl had not been able to keep pace with Erin, but she had toiled up the hill nevertheless, frantic with worry. 

"Aria!" Erin called. "Rhian is bruised, and unconcious, but I do not know if she is hurt elsewhere." She reached out and took Aria's hand. "I know you want to look for Frodo," she said softly, "but I must find Aragorn, and I do not want to leave her alone. Will you stay here? The others are looking for him." 

Aria took a deep, painful breath, looking from the trees where her love was- somewhere- to the still form of the woman she had come to think of as her own sister. "I will stay," she whispered. "But please, go quickly!" Erin pressed her hand and leapt swiftly down the hill on the westward side, going towards the sound of Merry and Pippin's voices, hoping Aragorn would be with them. 

As Erin fled down the hill, the knife she had thrust through her belt worked loose, and she was forced to stop and secure it. She did not know why, but without thinking she tucked it beneath her tunic, against her skin, and bound it in place. Soon she was far down the hill, and ahead she heard suddenly the blowing of Boromir's horn. Her skin prickled- surely that could not mean good. She slowed, trying to go cautiously, but her breathe was labored and her heart pounded in her ears. She broke suddenly and unexpectedly out of the trees, straight in to a battle. 

Dead orcs lay oozing black blood out on to the ground. Merry and Pippin were struggling valiantly against more with their small swords. And Boromir was hewing at the orcs about him, even as a black-feathered arrow sprang from his side. 

Erin cried out involuntarily, knowing even as she did it would bring their attention to her. Before her scream has stopped she snatched up a blade from a fallen orc, knowing it would no good to reach for her own hidden dagger, and thrust it into the chest of the orc that came to seize her. He slumped at her feet, the black blood spurting out and spattering over her tunic, her face. She made a small, choked sound, but another was before her, and another. She cut and stabbed blindly, barely registering that they seemed unwilling to attack her in earnest. She had felled a good number when two together caught her arms, and as she fought against them they struck her temple. As the world darkened, Erin saw Boromir fall back against a tree, his chest full of arrows. 

Far away, on the hill, Rhian was returning to herself. She groaned, opening her eyes and trying to push herself up, only to fall back as pain exploded in her head. 

"Rhian?"

At the sound of Aria's voice, she sat up again, and this time managed to stay up. "Aria," she murmured..."Aria- Frodo!" She tried to stand up and stumbled, falling against the stone. Aria leapt out, automatically holding out her hands to catch her. "Frodo...Boromir, he seemed to go mad, and Frodo..." She pushed away from the stone, finding her feet. Her head throbbed, and her heart beat seemed to pounding _Now! Now!_ "Frodo, we must go after Frodo."

"They're looking for him," Aria said soothingly. "Erin went to find Strider, she was afraid you might be hurt more."

"No." Rhian shook her head, and then regretted it. "No, I'm fine. Boromir, Aria, he was so unlike himself! He was...terrifying. He tried to take the Ring. I stopped him and he struck me." She touched her bruised cheek and winced. 

"He came down to the camp and told us you were here. He said you had been struck down, but...he struck you?" Aria gasped. "But he would never-"

"I know. He was not himself. The Ring...seemed to take him over." Rhian shivered, looking around her. "We must find the others- I do not know where Frodo has gone, but if Boromir loses himself again he must be stopped. He wanted it for Gondor, he said. He wanted to be king. And..." she passed a hand over her eyes. "He wanted me for queen." Aria made a soft sound and took Rhian's hand. 

"Let's go down to the boats. Perhaps the others are there."

But they were not. Rhian frowned about her as Aria re-told everything that had happened after she had left. "It is not right," she said. "If we are all scattered, then..." She stopped, staring at the boats. "One's missing."

"What?" Aria came to stand next to her.

"One of the boats is missing!" Rhian turned and began to look through the gear that was left. After a moment she sat back on her heels. "Aria...I think Frodo is gone."

The hobbit girl paled and sank down to kneel beside her. "Gone? But..." She looked so bewildered that Rhian reached out and slipped an arm around her. 

"His pack is gone. Sam's as well. And one of the boats..." She twisted to look out over the river. She didn't want to say it, but the words seemed to press up out of her throat. "Mordor is that way."

Aria made a tiny, stifled sound and buried her face in her hands. "He can't! He can't have gone! Not alone! Not without me!" Her heartbroken wail was painful to hear, and Rhian wrapped her arms around her. 

"I think he wanted more than anything to spare you," she whispered helplessly. "Maybe more than anything that is what he was afraid of." Rhian looked around again. The some of the gear was scattered; she did not see her sister's pack, but at last she spotted her own, the harp of Lorien tucked carefully in to it so that it would not be jarred when the gear was shifted about. She looked down at the weeping hobbit girl in her arms, wondering where the others were; had Erin found Frodo and gone with him? Was that why she couldn't see her pack? Or perhaps she was with Strider, and on her way back to the hill top...

There was no way to know. And Frodo and Sam were not on the water- they must have already reached the far side of the river. And Rhian felt the pull of her destiny on her chest, tugging with each heart beat, _Now! Now!_ Before she could change her mind, she spoke quickly. "We'll go after them."

Aria lifted her tear-stained face. "After Frodo?"

"Yes. I hope..." she paused. "I _hope_ that Erin will have found him and be with him already. If not, then I hope she is with Strider. If she is, she'll be safe-" Rhian bit her lip, and then went on in a rush. "But Frodo and Sam will be needing aid. We must go after them."

Aria nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes!" She flung her arms around Rhian's neck and gave her a quick hug before going to find her pack. Rhian did the same, strapping her harp to her back and fastening her bow to the straps. She hung her quiver on her belt, settling it on her right hip, to balance her sword on her left. She looked to Aria, who nodded, and seemed to be holding her breath. Rhian grasped the prow of the boat nearest her, braced her legs, and shoved it out into the water. 

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARWENARIA18! Also known as my dearest Kay! Here's your belated birthday present! A nice, _long_ chapter! And it's even longer than it was originally; the ending felt forced and out of character, so I fixed it. So, for being my good friend, inspiration, fellow author, and favorite reader, this story is officially dedicated to Kaytlyn (in case I hadn't done that already). And all the people said, HUZZAH! 

I've finally got the Fellowship broken up and headed their separate ways. So now we will be losing sight of some of our beloved heroes until they meet up again with Our Heroines later in the story. To Be Continued! Next issue: Orcs, Ithilien, Jonathan, aaaaaaaand Bryan! Stay tuned!


	26. The Two Huntresses

Chapter 25

As Rhian and Aria set out across the water in the grey boat for the last time, seeking the Ringbearer, the sound of the Horn of Gondor echoed over the trees. The sound of Rauros kept it from the women's ears, but above on the high seat Aragorn heard. He sped down the slope, seeking after the source, but even as he came near the sounds died away. He went on, crying _Elendil!_ until at last he came upon Boromir, son of Denethor, lying in a small glade. Fallen orcs were heaped about him, at his feet, and he lay against a great tree as though resting. But black arrows sprouted from his chest, and the sword clasped in his hand was shattered near the hilt. His horn was cloven in two at his side. 

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes, striving to speak. His words came slowly, and with difficulty. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo," he whispered. "I am sorry. I have paid." His voice was harsh and painful. His eyes wandered over his fallen enemies. "They have taken them, the Halflings," he said. "The orcs had taken them. And-" he gasped sharply, pale with suffering. "And the Lady Erin. They have taken..." He struggled for breath. "I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them. Lady Erin...struggled valiantly...and the Halflings..." He seemed to sag, and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again. "Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed."

"No!" said Aragorn. "You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!"

Boromir smiled.

Legolas and Gimli found Aragorn kneeling at Boromir's side, his head bowed with weeping. They carried Boromir to the shore, and bringing the last two boats, and laid him in the one that would bear him down the Anduin. At his feet they placed the weapons of his enemies, and the remains of his sword and his cloven helm they laid across his lap. They paddled the boats out in to the current, and cast the funeral boat loose, the River taking it away.

Aragorn looked at the place where the missing two boats had rested. The ground was crossed and re-crossed with their own tracks, and little could be told. At last Aragorn said "Four packs are missing, and one is certainly Sam's; It was rather large and heavy. Another was Lady Rhian's, for she had her harp. And I think another must have been Lady Aria's." He paused. "This then is the answer: Frodo has gone by boat, and his servant has gone with him. Frodo must have returned while we were all away. I met Sam going up the hill and told him to follow me; but plainly he did not do so. He guessed his master's mind and came back here before Frodo had gone. He did not find it easy to leave Sam behind!"

"But why should he leave us behind, and without a word? But take Lady Aria and Lady Rhian?" said Gimli. "That was a strange deed!"

"And a brave deed," said Aragorn. "Sam was right, I think. Frodo did need wish to lead any friend to death with him in Mordor. I do not believe he has taken Aria and Rhian with him by choice; rather they came after, and guessed the answer as well, and have gone after him."

"So well they might, those two," murmured Legolas. 

"Our choice then," said Gimli, "is either to take the remaining boat and follow Frodo, or else to follow the Orcs on foot."

"Let me think!" said Aragorn. He stood silent for a moment. "I will follow the orcs," he said at last. "I would have guided Frodo to Mordor and gone with him to the end, but if I seek him now in the wilderness, I must abandon the captives to torment and death. Lady Rhian has followed the Bearer- she can not know that her sister is taken. And so it is to us. We that remain cannot forsake our companions while we have strength left."

So the Three Hunters set out. 

Rhian found herself forced to go slowly, despite her anxious fear, and Aria's pale face. Her ankle protested sharply each time she set her weight on it, and she was already exhausted in both body and spirit. She tired swiftly, and as much as she cursed her frail human form it was soon clear that she was unable to go far. Aria smiled bravely and made camp, even as her beloved moved farther and farther ahead, and Rhian moved restlessly. The pull on her heart and the strength of her legs were in direct conflict. She let Aria insist on the first watch, but she slept with her hand on her sword. 

The second day they rose early, both troubled in spirit and unrested, and set out again in to the Emyn Muil. Rhian's ankle protested ever more as she scrambled over the great barren rocks, sometimes jumping from one to the next, and every so often losing her balance and dropping to her knees, scraping her hands open all over again on the rough stone. The way was yet more difficult for Aria, so much smaller, but she struggled bravely on, though some of the jumps Rhian made were too much for her. As they went on, Rhian would go ahead, finding the way, then lift the hobbit maid up after her, taking her hands to swing her over the gaps as she would have Rosie. 

They spoke little. Rhian strengthened, and they went on earlier and longer each day, but the rocks were impossible in the dark and they were forced to stop, though neither of them seemed to sleep at all. Even though she had chosen to go on, Rhian was tormented by thoughts of her sister- what if she had not found Aragorn at all? Might she still be lost at Parth Galen? What if Boromir, still in his madness, had found her and done her harm? What if....

The third day, as they made their slow way over the rocks, Rhian had Aria by the hand, guiding her leap over a crack in the stone when the wind rose up in a sudden gust, knocking her sideways and to her knees. Aria screamed as her feet missed their mark and she dropped in to the chasm, but Rhian kept tight hold of her wrist. She fought for purchase against the wind, braced her feet, and slowly lifted Aria on to the exposed stretch of stone, catching her other hand lest the wind push her over and she fall again. Both trembling, they pressed themselves to the earth, their hands over there is. There was a dreadful, terrible sound sweeping over, more than the sound of the black wind that sought to dislodge them. It was a scream more horrible than any they had heard before, and they shivered. The wind and the scream ended, and thunder cracked above their heads. Lightning struck the stone little more than a yard from them, scorching the very rock and searing the air. Rain poured down in sheets. 

Keeping hold of each other's hands, they crawled down, finding against one of the cliff walls a ledge, with a shallow depression beneath it. Here they huddled together, pressed against the stone, as the rain poured down around them. Rhian prayed briefly that they were high enough that no flash flood would come through the chasm- it was little more than a slash down in the rocks, and not deep. Aria sneezed and shivered. The hobbit girl sat practically on Rhian's lap, her arms around her. The human woman's pack, thankfully worn beneath her cloak- it gave her the appearance of a hunchback, but this journey was no time for vanity- was dry, and Rhian worked it loose from her back and put it beneath her knees to keep it so. Her harp, safe in its hard leather case, she tucked carefully between herself and the stone wall; she prayed water would not get in to her sheath and rust her sword. 

Best of all, their blankets were nearly dry. They wrapped them around themselves as best they could beneath their cloaks, and curled together, waiting for the rain to stop. "I hope Frodo is all right," Aria whispered. Rhian hugged her gently, and, shivering, against all probability they fell asleep. 

The fourth day, the two came out of the Emyn Muil. The sun was out, but the rocks were slick with the rain, and their hands were bloodied. 

The unplanned sleep had refreshed them, and they made good time weaving among the tumbled boulders. Rhian sagged with relief when she found faint traces of a brief camp near the foot of the precipice, and a clear hobbit foot-print left in the rain-softened ground. Aria cried out joyfully, clapping her hands- they could be no more than a day behind the Ring-bearer and his servant. 

"I do not like the look of that marsh," Rhian said, frowning. Blessing Strider all the way, the two of them had tracked Frodo and Sam as they went away from Emyn Muil, down the broken, stony slope, towards the foul-smelling marshes that now stretched before them. The faint trail led down a rift and in to the marsh itself- and there was a third set of tracks, apart from Frodo's neat prints, or Sam's broader, more widely set ones. There had been so few clear marks- they had been following smudges and dislodged stones for most of it- that it had taken Rhian some time and much puzzling to decide that there must be a third in the party ahead of them, and that it must be nearly hobbit-sized. In some places the ground had been clawed up, like a creature on all fours. It seemed Gollum was guiding the Ring-bearer.

But...in to this? Rhian took a hesitant step forward, and her foot went through the thin layer of 'ground' and in to the water with a sucking gurgle. Aria bit back a scream and caught Rhian's hand as the woman threw herself backwards and braced her painfully bent left foot- the ankle was screaming- to keep from sliding down further. Carefully, she scrabbled backwards up on to the sparse grass. Her boot came free with another horrible sucking noise, covered in stinking black mud. The cleaned it off as best she could with a clump of grass, holding her breath. 

"Let's _not_ try and go that way," she said, struggling up to her feet, wincing as her leg informed her that it was most definitely not happy with its recent treatment. Aria nodded vigorously, and they moved back quickly.

"Surely they didn't go in there?" Aria said anxiously.

"Perhaps," Rhian said. "It's more than possible I read the signs wrong, and they doubled back and went another way. Or perhaps Gollum knows some kind of path through it. But we shall never be able to get through, that's for certain."

Aria nodded. "Now what do we do?"

Rhian pushed a strand of hair back from her face, leaving a streak of mud across her cheek. "If they _are_ going around it," she said, "I would think they would go south, and east. Those mountains look nearer...and...it _is_ Mordor they're trying to get to." Aria bit her lip and nodded. "There's no telling where Gollum might be taking them, though- or if he's even leading them at all, or just following, or a prisoner. But we can't go in to the marsh...and there were no other signs farther back. I think the best we can do is go south, and hope to find some sign of them that way."

Aria nodded again. "Then...let's do it."

A/N: Aaaaand another one! This one, of course, much shorter and nearer my chapters' usual length. We will probably be following Rhian and Aria for some time, seeing as Erin is going to be unconscious for a bit. But we'll see how things pan out. So, here y'are, here y'are, hope you enjoyed, if you're still reading, please review and let me know! I'm hoping to finish this fic, and then go back and revise the first chapters, so if you're about, what do you think of that?


	27. Out of the Frying Pan

Chapter 27

Pippin lay in a dark and troubled dream. He couldn't find Frodo, and hundreds of hideous orc faces grinned at him out of the shadows, hundreds of orc arms grasped at him from every side. He woke. Cold air blew on his face. He was lying on his side staring up at the darkening sky. He turned laboriously over. A white-faced Merry lay beside him, a dirty rag bound across his bow. Beyond him was the still form of Lady Erin, crumpled in a seemingly boneless huddle. Pippin could not see if she was hurt, or just unconscious, or even if she was breathing. 

All around them was a great company of orcs. 

Of course; they had all run off, like idiots, not listening to a word Strider had said. They had got lost, and run straight in to the arms of the orcs. Good old Merry had given some of _them_ what-for, that was certain. And then Boromir had come crashing through the trees, and driven them off, only even more came, with arrows, and he had last seen Boromir leaning against a tree...Erin had come too, just before everything had got dark. She had been a brave, desperate sight, but the orcs had been too many. But why hadn't the orcs killed them?

Pippin struggled against his bonds a little, but it was useless. One of the orcs nearby laughed, said something in the hideous, guttural orc-tongue to his companion. The he said to Pippin in the common speech "Rest while you can, little fool! Rest while you can! We'll find a use for your legs before long. You'll wish you had none before we get home."

"If I had my way," said the other orc, "you'd be dead _now_." He stooped over Pippin, bringing his yellow fangs close to his face. "I'd make you squeak, you miserable rat." He shook the long, jagged black blade he held under the hobbit's nose. "Lie quiet, or I'll tickle you with this," he hissed. "Don't draw attention to yourself, or I may forget my orders. Curse the Isengarders! _Ugluk u bagronk sha pushdug Saruman-glob bubhosh skai..._" he swore angrily, sliding in to his own tongue. All around them were other forces, quarreling- many of them in the common speech. _They're different tribes_, Pippin thought. _They can't even understand each other_. 

"There's no time to kill them properly," said one. "No time for play on this trip."

"Why not kill them quick, kill them now?" said another. "They're a cursed nuisance and we're in a hurry. We ought to get a move on."

"_Orders_," said a third voice in a deep growl. "_Kill all but NOT the Halflings OR the females; they are to be brought back ALIVE as quickly as possible_. That's my orders."

"What are they wanted for?" sneered the yellow-fanged orc who had threatened Pippin. "Why alive? Do they give good sport? Why can't we play with them _now_?" He grabbed the neck of Erin's tunic, hoisting her up. She hung from his grasp like a rag-doll, unmoving even as the fabric tore open, baring the white skin of her collar-bone and shoulder. Pippin yelled angrily, fighting at his bonds, but the deep-voiced orc had already cuffed yellow-fang roughly away. Erin was dropped to the ground, and Pippin could see the gash across her temple, just below the hairline. It was crusted with blood, dried trickles spreading across her cheek. 

"_Alive and as captured: NO SPOILING_. That's my orders."

Pippin struggled to follow the argument of the orcs; One, Uglak, wanted to go to Isengard the fastest way possible. Another, Grishnakh, called Saruman a fool. Before long a fight broke out, orc against orc. One of them fell over Merry's still form, stabbed as he went down, and fell on Pippin. The fight didn't last long, but as Uglak regained control Pippin felt a gleam of hope. _The orc's knife had fallen on his arm_. His arms were only bound at the wrists, and, carefully, he pushed the dead orc aside and drew the knot of the cords up and down the blade of the knife. It was cut! Pippin quickly knotted it again in to a loose bracelet of two loops and slipped it over his hands. Then he lay very still.

The orcs began moving, the prisoners slung on their backs like so much baggage. A few times Erin came partially awake to the foul smell of orc and the pain in her head, but mercifully the darkness returned soon each time. A long time later- a day? Two?- she came fully awake at last when she was dropped to the ground roughly. The orcs were shouting, screaming all around- Erin fought to make sense of the chaos around her. She struggled up, wincing, just as the orc that had dropped her was spitted on a long spear. The short scream she uttered, though she bit it back, was still enough to bring the eyes of the golden horseman to her. His shocked exclamation was in a tongue she had not heard before, but when he saw she did not understand he shouted in the common speech; "How came you here?"

"I..." Erin struggled to comprehend what was happening, but there was no time. Another orc came near, and went down under the rider's blade. The horseman turned to her once more.

"Give me your hand!" Erin could only stare at his outstretched palm, _think, **think**, Erin! What is happening?_ The rider's head turned sharply to survey the battle before his sharp eyes whipped back to her. "Your hand, woman! Else you shall be left!" Erin stumbled forward, setting her hand in his and letting her swing her up on to the horse behind them. He kicked the horse in to motion immediately, and Erin clung to the back of his hauberk and he turned to what was left of the melee. 

The last of the orcs were swiftly run down, the long spears of the golden riders moving quick and efficient. Everything was over as suddenly as it had began. The men gathered together, beginning to tend their wounds, and to stare at the strange woman who had suddenly appeared among them. Erin, faint and trembling, was beginning to realize that it had been some days since she had eaten, that her temple and cheek were streaked with dried blood, her tunic torn at the throat and baring her bruised shoulder. Her rescuer slid her down from the great horse, and thankfully another man stood ready to catch her, for her legs would not hold. She was let down gently, but managed not to crumple, and stay sitting mostly upright. The men gathered in a circle around her. 

The pale, blood-spattered face looked slowly from one man to the next. Erin did not know who they were or what they might intend, but they were better than orcs. She had no choice but to trust them. The man who had saved her asked something in the language she did not understand. She shook her head. He tried again in the common speech, and his accent seemed similar to what Boromir's had been. "How came you here?"

"I was taken," Erin said, trying to force her weary mind into working out how much she could tell this man, and what to try and hide.

One of the riders muttered something at her answer, but the leader waved him to silence. "How came a woman to be taken? You might be one of our people, but you know not our tongue. And yet you do not speak like a woman of Gondor."

"Nor am I," she said, carefully. "I come from...farther away."

"And how came you to be in the hands of orcs crossed our lands?"

"I was traveling, in the company of others- my sister, and Men- down the Anduin."

"In boats?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, my lord," she said slowly. "Above Rauros we were...we were separated, and attacked by orcs. I was taken, and I know not what became of...of the others..." A violent shudder passed through her and the remains of her strength seemed to vanish. She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face. A low moan filled the air, soft, but full of agony. Erin sagged sideways to the ground.

When she came to herself, the smell of smoke filled the air. She lay where she had fallen, covered with a green blanket of wool. Her head was pillowed on a folded cloak, and a flask sat on the ground beside her. The blood had been washed from her face, and the gash cleaned. Erin sat up, holding the blanket around her with one hand, and reached for the flask. It was filled with water, lukewarm and stale, but it seemed the sweetest thing she had ever tasted and she drank thirstily. The water refreshed her, and she climbed shakily to her feet to look around her. 

They were still at the edge of the forest. Some ways from her she could see the riders, and what looked to be a great bonfire. _The orcs_, she thought, and shuddered. One of the men saw that she was standing, and spoke to the one she had decided was the leader, who came towards her. Erin stood as steadily as she could and tried to gather herself. 

"Forgive me, lady," he said as he reached her. "I should not have questioned you so. I gave no thought that you must have been sore used. Please, sit."

"I am all right," Erin said, but she sat. He sat cross-legged in front of her, but not too close. He kept a respectful yard of distance. In his hands was a bundle wrapped in cloth, which was revealed to contain hard traveling bread. Erin accepted it gratefully.

"I am Eomer, son of Eomund, the Third Marshal of Riddermark," he said. _An impressive title for a man sitting on the ground_, Erin thought wryly. At least her sense of humor had survived captivity intact. "Who are you?" The question of blunt, but his tone was gentler than before.

"I am Raithnait Erin O'Connor," she said, a little bemused, "daughter of Bran O'Connor. I am called Erin." He was looking at her strangely. "Is something wrong?" she asked. 

Eomer shook his head. "Forgive me, Lady...Erin. It is only that you look very much like someone I know."

"I see." Of course- all of these men had light hair and ruddy skin. _Vikings_, she thought. And they were surprised that she had not known their tongue. 

"You said, lady, that you were attacked above Rauros and separated from your companions," he paused, remembering her earlier collapse, but she nodded for him to go on. "What was your destination? How did you come to be traveling such a road?"

Erin thought carefully. "Our paths were not all decided," she said truthfully. "Some of our number intended to go on to Minas Tirith."

Eomer nodded, and Erin wondered what he would ask next. She hoped it would be nothing she could not answer. The long pause strained her nerves, and it must have shown on her face, for she saw Eomer decide to ask her no more. "Lady," he said, "you need rest and care, and my company has not yet completed its ride. There are orcs yet to hunt. Let me send you with a guard to the city of Edoras, where my uncle Theoden King rules. I would commend you to the care of my sister Eowyn. You would be safe, and perhaps we will find tidings of your fellows. Are you willing?"

Erin paused. She had no other source of aid, she did not even know where she was. Eomer was surely not in league with the dark, but who could say what she might find in this far away city? And she would be even farther from wherever her sister might be. But..."I am willing, my lord," she said.

So Erin found herself riding South in the company of three Riders of the Mark. After the skirmish with the orcs, three horses were left riderless, and one given to Erin to ride, once Eomer was assured she could ride well enough on her own. The pace they set on the way to Edoras was easy, while Eomer's _eored_ moved more swiftly away East and South. Three days they wove through fens and bogs, for Erin's guide, a pale, slender young man called Bardhelm, knew the paths, and it was quicker so. The Riders of the Mark were proud men, great warriors, and full, it seemed to Erin, of a kind of barbaric nobility. Some of their manners were rough, but they spoke gently enough to her, and did not chafe overmuch at the slow progress she made. She heard them speak proudly of the prowess of Eomer- to whose household they belonged- of the beauty and high-heartedness of his sister, Eowyn, of the past greatness of Theoden King, and of his son Theodred, slain but a few days ago. She heard them speak also in murmers of the darkness that had fallen over the golden hall, but when they spoke of it they slid most often in to their own speech, and fell silent altogether when they recalled her presence. Foreboding covered Erin, and she wondered what awaited them in Edoras.

Early on the third day the small company came in sight of the golden city. Erin squinted up at the Great Hall, glinting in the sun far above. 


	28. Reunited

Chapter 28

Rhian and Aria skirted cautiously around the southern end of the Dead Marshes. Aria was pale and anxious. Rhian was limping, but the pain in her ankle had settled to a steady throbbing ache. She could ignore it well enough. They walked steadily and their camps were brief. It was impossible to sleep much, with the eerie lights shining over the marsh so close by, but even in haste Rhian was unwilling to walk so near treacherous ground in the dark. 

Four days later they left the Marshes behind them. Rhian breathed easier, but her relief did not last long. There was no sign of Frodo and Sam anywhere. The air was clear and cold, and the land stretched away from them in long, shallow, barren slope. Rhian shivered, looking around. East and south of them lay the great black mountains, dark and ominous, and terribly near. Frodo and Sam, led by Gollum, might be anywhere among those mountains by now. 

"What shall we do?" Rhian looked down. Aria, beside her, looked pale but resolute as she stared at mountains of Mordor.

"I suppose," Rhian said slowly, "that the best we can do is...to head straight for it, and hope to find some trace of Frodo." She felt a tug somewhere beneath her breastbone. _Yes. This way_. 

Aria nodded. They set their faces toward Mordor, and began walking. 

The second day found them entering sparse groves of twisted pine trees, over grown with shrubs; beyond they could see slopes thickly covered with sombre trees. Rhian felt her heart lift. She had always keenly felt the absence of trees, and even these poor ones soothed her. They were near the mountains now, but they did not look up at the black crags. They had walked in silence, speaking briefly when they made camp, but only briefly. All their energies were focused forward, like an arrow fixed to a taut string. 

It was afternoon on the third day when the armed men came. 

They heard them before they saw them. Shouts and screams sounded out of the woods ahead, and terrible crashing. The sound of metal on metal came nearer, and Rhian set herself before Aria, drawing her sword. The men broke through the trees; dark men garbed in scale mail of gold, robed in scarlet. They bore curved shining swords. The strangers stopped in surprise at the sight of the woman garbed in green, what seemed to be a child crouched behind her. But it was only a moment before they had thrown themselves forward. Rhian's sword moved swiftly, the curved blades scraping against her slender one. They came at her two at once, and she took a cut across her arm before her blade sank deeply into the gap between two pieces of mail and drew blood. The man she had marked fell back, clutching his wound, but another came to take his place. It was in that brief moment that she saw they were not alone.

Tall men in green, hooded and masked, were fighting with them as well. Rhian had only a second to wonder who they were before her opponent took advantage of her distraction. He caught her blade in his, trapping it, and had suddenly in his hand a dagger. Rhian moved too late to dodge away, and the wicked blade sliced deeply in to her thigh. And then her enemy was fallen, the sword of one of the hooded men in his back. Rhian staggered as the man fell, her sword twisted from her hand and falling to the ground, blood streaking down her arm and soaking her thigh. For a long moment Rhian found herself staring over the body of her dead foe in to the eyes of the masked man. Slowly he reached up and pulled his mask away. Rhian cried out and tumbled forward in to his arms.

"_Jon!_"

Rhian, walking slowly and painfully, was grateful for Jonathan's steadying arm. The sounds of battle had quieted while Jon and Aria had staunched her bleeding and bound the wounds on her thigh and arm. They stayed hidden in the bracken where Jon had carried Rhian until one of his companions, the hooded men in green, came and sought him. Rhian managed between times to tell Jonathan briefly how she came to be under attack in Ithilien, the quest that had brought her out of Rivendell, and the strange pull that seemed to guide her. She also introduced him to Aria, the quiet, gentle young man and the loving hobbit maid taking to each other instantly. 

Rhian's leg hurt horribly with every step, making it clear that it did not approve of being both sprained and stabbed. The gash on her arm was a lesser pain, the cuts on her hands stinging sharply. She felt stiff with the pain. What did it feel like to be more or less in one piece? She could not remember. 

"A little farther, now," Jonathan murmured. A few minutes later they came out into a clearing that held near two or three hundred men, all garbed and cloaked in varying shades of green, and masked as Jon had been. Rhian saw spears and long bows near at hand among their ranks. The whole company was seated in a great semi-circle, and as they came near she could see clearly the young hobbit who stood between the arms of it, speaking in a clear, high voice; polite, but strained and full of grief.

"Will you not put aside your doubt of me and let me go?" Frodo asked. "I am weary, and full of grief, and afraid. But I have a deed to do, or to attempt, before I too am slain. And the more need of haste, if we two halflings are all that remain of our Fellowship. Go back, Faramir, valiant Captain of Gondor, and defend your city while you may, and let me go where my doom takes me."

"Frodo!" Three hundred men twisted around in surprise as the small form of Aria ran past and threw herself in to their prisoner's arms. Rhian stopped, leaning on Jonathan, and smiled as Frodo recovered enough to give Aria a sweet kiss. Sam, standing on the opposite side where Rhian had not seen him before, wiped his eyes. 

The man Frodo had been speaking to stood, turning towards them, and Rhian was struck by his close resemblance to Boromir. After her parting from the warrior of Gondor, she might have feared this man who was so like him, but the emotion never occured to her. His face was grace and stern, but handsome, and there was gentleness in his manner and kindness in his eyes. There was also a sharp intelligence, and a measure of doubt lingering in them as his sharp glance as it fell on Rhian. 

"What is this, _Baran_?" Faramir asked, looking from Rhian; disheveled, streaked with dirt and blood, grey-cloaked and bearing sword and bow and harp, to Aria, who stepped out of Frodo's arms to curtsey, though she held fast to his hand.

"My lord," Jonathan said, "this woman is Rhiannon, daughter of Bran, and kin to me." Faramir looked at her in wonder, but his keen grey eyes quickly saw her pain, though she lifted her chin and met his look levelly. 

Faramir looked at Frodo. The hobbit stood, blushing, with Aria's hand clasped tightly in his- at the man's look she stepped away enough to curtsy, but she did not let go. "These women were members your party?" he asked.

"Yes, my lord," Frodo said. 

Faramir looked at Jonathan. "And you will vouch for them?"

"My lord, Rhiannon is the niece of my father's wife, and kin to me, though not by blood. She has my trust."

"And this lady halfling?" Faramir asked, a smile touching the corners of his mouth as he looked down at Aria. 

"My lord," Jonathan said, "this is Aria Tooke, known only to me for a short while, but for my part I would trust her, and anyone that Rhiannon trusted."

Rhian lifted her chin as Faramir looked at her. "And do you, lady, vouch for these halflings?"

"I do, my lord," she said. "Aria and I have come from Rauros seeking them."

"I see," the man said wryly, looking at the blushing Frodo. He seemed to be considering something, his handsome face turning grave and thoughtful. Rhian shifted, trying to relieve the pain in her leg, and hissed softly at the sharp pang the movement caused. Faramir's eyes flickered to her, and he seemed to make a decision.

"Some of your Company, it seems, live still, Frodo," he said. "Whatever befell on the North March, you I doubt no longer. If hard days have made me any judge of Men's words and faces, then I may make a guess at Halflings! Though," he smiled, "there is something strange about you, Frodo, an elvish air, maybe. And I know enough of our friend Baran to trust his word. But more lies upon our words together than I thought at first. I should now take you back to Minas Tirith to answer there to Denethor, and my life will justly be forfeit, if I now choose a course that proves ill for my city. So I will not decide in haste what is to be done. Yet we must move hence without more delay."

He began issuing orders, and the men that had surrounded him began breaking apart in to smaller groups, disappearing in to the trees. Soon only two men were left, and Faramir beckoned to them. 

"Now you, Frodo and Samwise, and you, ladies Rhiannon and Aria, shall come with me and my guards," he said. "You cannot go along the road southwards, if that was your purpose. It will be unsafe for some days, and always more closely watched after this affray than it has been yet. And you cannot, I think, go very far today in any case, for you are weary, and you, lady," he paused as he looked at Rhian. She was still steady on her feet, with the aid of Jonathan's arm, but her face was pale and taut with pain. "You are in need of rest and care, I deem, lady, and the men of Gondor are not yet such that they would refuse a woman aid."

"Thank you," Rhian said quietly. Jonathan's hand on her elbow tightened gently.

"We are going now to a secret place we have, somewhat less than ten miles from here," Faramir said. "The Orcs and spies of the Enemy have not found it yet, and if they did, we could hold it long even against many. There we may lie up and rest for a while, and you with us. In the morning I will decide what is best for me to do, and for you."

They set out at once. The two men, who Faramir called Mablung and Damrod, went ahead, the halflings following a little ways behind with Faramir, and Jon at the rear, his arm kept carefully about Rhian's waist. The woman saw that the raven haired captain looked often back to see their progress, and slowed his pace so that she was never far behind. But he spoke no word on the matter, and Rhian's pride was grateful. She was more grateful still for the solidity of her cousin at her side. 

Rhian had not realized, or not allowed to let herself realize, how much she had missed the members of her small, strange family. She had clung to the nearness of her sister, not thinking on Rosie, left in Rivendell, nor Bryan, who was surely elsewhere in Middle Earth. Especially she did not think on her fiery haired aunt Lianne, trapped far ahead in the future. Tears stung her eyes. Then she had left her sister, too, and gone adrift without kin except Aria, her precious adopted sister. Rhian smiled through her tears at the sight of the hobbit girl, walking ahead, hand in hand with Frodo and watching him as though she could not bear to look away. She looked uncommonly beautiful beneath the green trees, a bright point in the dappled sunlight, glowing with love. 

Rhian stumbled, but Jonathan's strong arm tightened. Before she could protest, the young man bent and scooped her up in his arms. She was no small woman, but he was a tall man and held her against his chest easily enough. 

"I can walk!" Rhian objected.

"Of course you can," he said softly. "But would you deny me the pleasure of carrying you?"

"I-" Rhian fumbled, looking in to his face, now so near her own. His gentle dark eyes sparkled at her, and she gave in. Walking _did_ hurt a great deal, and being carried as very nice at present. Rhian cleared her throat. "Um. What was it that Lord Faramir called you?" she asked. "_Baran_?"

"Ah," he said. "'Jonathan' is not a name much suited to a ranger of Ithilien, and does not come easily to the tongue of a man of Gondor. When Captain Faramir found me at the pool of Henneth Annun- where we go now- he rightly should have killed me, as rightly he should have killed your friend- Frodo?- for such are his orders. But the Lord Faramir is not a man to kill needlessly, or in haste. He is a great man," Jonathan said softly, "such as we no longer have in our time." He paused a moment before going on. "Instead, he spared me and put me under the tutelage of his rangers that patrol these forests. I have been becoming a woodsman, these past months, and they called me 'Baran', which they tell me is Elvish for 'golden brown'. For my hair." 

"Of course," Rhian said, and reached up to run her hand over the thick curls, dark waves grown long and unruly, and sun-streaked with lighter strands. She was with part of her family again, and the thought warmed her. "This place is well suited to you," she said reflectively. "It has soaked in to your speech. I would say it has surrounded you with an air of lordship, but when I think back you were always thus."

He grinned at her. "Your speech, as well, cousin," he said. Rhian smiled. "Even now I am half certain it is a dream," he went on. "But with you here it seems more real. No...it is not here that is more real. I have been forgetting, as Baran of the Rangers, what Jonathan of the future was."

He fell silent, and Rhian, weary, let her head fall against his shoulder. Faramir looking back saw her sleeping in Baran's arms and nodded to the younger man. They made faster time now, and soon the woods thinned about them and they came to a small river in a narrow gorge. Here Faramir stopped.

"Alas!" he said. "Here I must do you a discourtesy." As he spoke, Rhian stirred and woke, and Jonathan set her gently on her feet. "I hope you will pardon it to one who has so far made his orders give way to courtesy so as not to bind you or kill you. But it is the command that no stranger, not even one of Rohan that fights with us, shall see the path we now go with open eyes. I must blindfold you."

Jonathan took a green scarf and bound it carefully around Rhian's eyes, while the same was done to her companions. Then they set out again, Jonathan guiding her gently, picking her up again often. At last, after many turns going up and down, Rhian heard the sound of rushing water, and felt a fine mist settling on her skin. "Let them see!" she heard Faramir say. The green cloth fell away from her eyes and she gasped. 

They stood on a wet floor of polished stone, the doorstep, as it were, of a rough-hewn gate of rock opening dark behind them. But in front a thin veil of water was hung, so near that Frodo could have put an outstretched arm into it. It faced westward. The level shafts of the setting sun behind beat upon it, and the red light was broken into many flickering beams of ever-changing color. It was as if they stood at the window of some elven-tower, curtained with threaded jewels of silver and gold, and ruby, sapphire and amethyst, all kindled with an unconsuming fire.

"At least by good chance we have come at the right hour to reward you for your patience," Faramir said. "This is the Window of the Sunset, Henneth Annun, fairest of all the falls of Ithilien, land of many fountains. Few strangers have ever seen it."

"It is beautiful," Rhian whispered. 

"Aye," Faramir said, "but there is no kingly hall behind it to match. Enter now and see!"

A/N: Some information, to help anyone confused about the timeline- I am presenting the stories of Rhian and Erin as if they were parallel, but actually they're a little out of sync. By the time Rhian and Aria reach the Dead Marshes (March 1), Erin has already met Eomer and been rescued from the orcs (Febuary 28). Rhian and Aria are one day behind Sam and Frodo, who of course go _through_ the Marshes, coming out on March 2 and going on towards the Towers of the Teeth. Rhian and Aria, circling around the Dead Marshes, take a little longer, getting away from the Marshes on March 4. By that date, Frodo was already practically at the Towers, saw the gates on the 5th, and then turned south towards Ithilien and Cirith Ungol. Rhian and Aria do not go to the Towers- instead they cut a line across the downs south-east of the path Frodo took, meeting his fresh trail on the outskirts of Ithilien on the 6th, and so coming in to Ithilien right on his heels. I worked all this out with the help of the _Atlas of Middle Earth_ so as to be as professional as possible. And playing with the maps is fun. 

Stay tuned for our next episode, Erin in Edoras! 


	29. Alone in the Dark

A/N: Just a warning, this chapter is rather dark and violent- I'm considering upping the rating for it and for following chapters. This chapter was extremely difficult to write, too.

Chapter 29

Erin and her small company of guards made their way up the track that lead upland towards the golden city of Edoras. At the foot of the walled hill they passed beneath the shadows of many mounts, high and covered with green grass, too perfectly shaped for the hand of nature. In a hushed and reverent voice, Bardhelm told Erin of the great kings who slept eternally within the barrows, the sires of Theoden, Lord of the Mark. White flowers like stars covered the western sides like drifts of snow in the grass, and Barhelm called them _simbelmyne_, that blossomed in all seasons and grew over any place where dead men rested. Erin bowed her head respectfully, and then they were again in the sunlight, and going up the winding way up the hill to the last wind-swept walls and the gates of Edoras. 

But before they reached them, a company of riders came out to meet them. The two groups halted, and the riders from the city arrayed themselves in a shining line. Erin looked sharply at Bardhelm's face--the young man was frowning as though worried. She looked back at line of men before them, counting. Ten...fifteen. Fifteen to their three, and herself. They did not look pleased to see the riders of Eomer's _eored_. Bardhelm spoke in their own tongue, and his voice was sharp-edged. 

The captain answered, and his voice was harsh. Erin did not like it. He seemed to be challenging Bardhelm, and Erin heard Eomer's name. And then the captain looked at her, and a sneer entered his tone. Bardhelm nudged his horse with his heels, setting himself between the strange captain and Erin. His answer was cold and angry. Erin wished she knew what was being said. 

There was a pause. 

And then the line of riders leapt forward, surrounding them. Bardhelm and his fellows had their swords in hand in a moment, but there was little they could do. Erin, in the center of it all, was helpless to do anything as her guards were overpowered. The bridle of her horse was seized and rough hands grabbed her from behind, pulling her from the saddle. Erin cried out and struggled, her mind flashing back to the horror of being captive to the orcs, but a cold blade was pressed to her throat and she stilled. 

The strange captain bent over her pale face and spoke. Seeing that she did not understand he smiled cruelly. "Take her to Wormtongue," he said in Common. The last Erin saw before the darkness took her was young Bardhelm, fighting against his bonds, his face twisted with anger.

She woke in darkness. Erin groaned and rolled over onto her hands and knees. The aches in her body that had begun to fade had returned, making her feel weak and sick. The half-healed gash on her forehead, when she felt for it gingerly, had broken open again, the blood just beginning to form a soft, gummy new scab. She winced, and dragged herself in to a sitting position. She was a prisoner again. Erin suppressed a shudder and stiffened her back. _Concentrate._ Who was her captor? Wormtongue, the strange captain had said. Bardhelm and the others had said that name a few times in their speech together, always softly, and always with distaste. Bardhelm had spat afterwards, as if it were sour. So Wormtongue was an enemy of Eomer. Eomer was the king's nephew, but apparently Wormtongue's power exceeded his. 

Something was very wrong. Erin's hands were unbound, and she begin to feel carefully around her. Close beside her she found a wall, and followed it three steps to a turn. Keeping her left hand flat against the stone, she turned right and followed the wall another three steps. Then another turn. Three steps. Turn. Three steps. She must have passed the place she started from- Erin crouched on the ground and felt along the floor. Yes. The stones were still a little warm from her body heat. So, four walls of stone, each three steps long. No windows. No door. Erin stiffened again to keep from shivering convulsively. She went back down to her hands and knees and began to feel across the floor, following the wall. Nothing. She moved over a step and went back, without a wall to guide her, and hoped she was still going straight. Nothing again. She moved over another step, sweeping her hands over the floor carefully- there. A soft bundle of cloth. Erin groped at it, and it unwound, spilling something in to her lap. She felt carefully. Bread, a little stale loaf the size of her palm. She wrapped it in the cloth again and tucked it in to her tunic, then went forward, still feeling. Her searching fingers collided with something wooden, knocking it over with a clatter. A bucket. 

Erin pushed the bucket in to the corner, where she could find it again, and then retreated back around the perimeter of the cell to where she had stared. It seemed as good a place as any. She took out the bread and pulled off small bites. How long was it intended to last her? How long since she had been captured? Erin ate half, then tucked the rest back in to her tunic. 

So. Now what. Erin curled up against the chill of the stone and thought. No doors, no windows. The air in the room was stale. No light, not even the faintest bit filtering through some crack. She hated this, she hated the dark, she hated small places, she hated- Erin fought down a rising tide of panic. _Stop it. You made it through Moria all right. What would Rhian think of you gave in to claustrophobia now? _

What would Legolas think? Legolas. She had been carefully not-thinking about him ever since she had woken up at the feet of an orc to be rescued by the Riders of the Mark. Where was he? Not captured, unless they would have taken him elsewhere. Not dead- Erin bit her lip and shook her head violently, causing pain to throb in her temples and neck. It distracted her from the sheer terror of the thought. No, not dead. But somewhere far away. Only Eomer knew where she was gone, and if her guesses were right he was in danger himself. There was no hope of rescue, none at all.

A low moan escaped her at last, echoed off the walls of the tiny cell. Trapped in the dark, with no way out, and no one coming to her aid. Erin sagged to the floor and curled in on herself. She was too tired. Too tired to stop the frightened sobs that tore through her. Her whole body shuddered with them, and it _hurt_.. Erin pressed an arm against her stomach, feeling as though she would be shaken apart. 

A hard shape beneath her tunic pressed in to her wrist. She froze, barely breathing. Slowly she slid her hand beneath the layers of clothing, feeling at her waist for the slender white dagger she had bound there so long ago. Erin drew it out, and even though there was no light the tracings of silver flowers over the blade and hilts seemed to glow. _Thank you, Lady Galadriel_, she thought. She slipped the dagger back in to its sheath, but kept it in her hands- the pearly horn was warm from her skin, and she ran her fingers over the raised lines of silver wire. 

Erin must have slept again, because she was curled on the floor with the dagger clutched against her breast when the sound of scraping and dull thuds came from above, bringing her up to her feet. _Above_. Of course. A trap door. The sounds became louder, and she pressed back against the wall of her cell. The dagger in her hand seemed suddenly hot, drawing itself to her attention, and she tucked it back beneath her tunic, out of sight. So far, it seemed, she had not been worth searching. 

***

Erin squinted against the brilliance of the torchlight, but resisted the urge to shrink back against the wall. The man who carried the fire set it in a bracket on the wall behind him, leaving him a dull, dark outline. Erin had been goaded up a ladder out of her cell by two of the coarse men who had attacked Bardhelm, then left in the equally bare room above. The trap door gaped open near her foot, and a heavy chest stood in the corner, but that was all. 

"My lady, I must crave your pardon," the shadow said. Something about the voice made Erin's spine prickle. "My men are rough, uncultured creatures, and didn't wait for my orders. Had I known," he stepped closer, and Erin moved backwards, "I would have had you freed sooner." He took another step closer, and Erin ran up against the wall. The light fell on his face now- pale and pasty, with heavy-lidded eyes that glinted with an odd, twisted light. Erin said nothing. 

The man paused. "I hope you have taken no lasting harm, lady," he said, stepping forward once more, so that he stood very close. His breath was foul. She stayed silent, and he lifted his hand towards her face. Erin struck it away, dodging to the side. 

"_Don't touch me_," she hissed. She knew who this must be. His name suited him. 

Wormtongue straightened up, drawing his robes around him. "So," he said coldly. "The lady is too high to be grateful to her rescuer." His gurgling cackle sent chills down her spine, enough that she didn't move in time to evade his blow. The back of his hand struck her cheek, knocking her against the wall. A ring gouged her skin, leaving a deep scratch that oozed blood. His other hand seized the torn neck of her tunic, yanking. Dirty nails raked the skin of her breast as she twisted away, thrusting him back from her. Wormtongue doubled over and Erin made to dodge around him, but she had forgotten the trap door. 

The ground disappeared beneath her feet, her shoulder striking the side of the opening, her ankle twisting. Erin struck the floor of the cell and rolled, curling her body around her bruised side. She pressed back against the wall, holding the front of her tunic together. Wormtongue's livid face appeared in the opening above her, his pasty skin discolored. "Little _bitch_-" he hissed, but he was cut off by pounding at the door. He snarled at her, but turned away. The trap door swung shut, cutting off the light.


	30. Evening in Ithilien

A/N: A nice, long chapter, and the next one is more than half done! 

Chapter 30

The sun sank over Henneth Annun, and the fire faded away from the flowing water of the falls. The small, bedraggled company of travelers turned and followed Captain Faramir under the low arch and out in to a rock chamber. It was wide and rough, the roof uneven and sloping, torches casting a dim light on the glistening walls. There were many men already there, now unmasked, and others were still coming in twos and threes through a dark, narrow door to one side. Rhian's eyes adjusted slowly to the gloom, and she saw that the cave was even greater than she had guessed, and held a great store of arms and provisions. 

"Here is our refuge," said Faramir. "Not a place of great ease, but here you may pass the night in peace. It is dry at least, and there is food, though no fire. At one time the water flowed down through this cave and out of the arch, but its course was changed further up the gorge by workmen of old, and the stream sent down in a fall of doubled height over the rocks far above. All the ways in to this grot were then sealed against the entry of water or aught else, save one. There are now but two ways out: that passage yonder by which you entered blindfolded, and through the Window-curtain into a deep bowl filled with knives of stone." There was a tinge of pride in the captain's voice as he spoke, laying a hand to the stone wall, but he turned back to his guests swiftly. "Forgive me!" he cried. "Come and rest a while, until the evening meal is set."

Rhian was led to a small alcove hallowed out of the wall, a blanket courteously held across its opening. Jon set himself before it, and Aria tore herself from Frodo's side to aid the young woman. Rhian struggled out of her blood stiffened clothing, hissing sharply with pain as cuts reopened. A basin of water had been left, and was soon tinted red. Her wounds cleansed, Rhian sat stoically as the hobbit maid rubbed a salve of the Rangers over them. The pale cream looked ghastly mixed with the new blood, and Rhian felt sick for the first time. But Aria covered them neatly with tidy bandages, and the blood did not seep through the layers of folded cloth. "There," Aria said with satisfaction. "None of them seem badly infected. But I do not know what to do for your ankle."

"It's fine," Rhian said, even as the area in question betrayed her with a painful twinge. "Thank you, dear sister. Now, go on- Frodo is waiting for you!" She smiled as the young hobbit at last ducked out from the curtain, catching an anxious expression on Frodo's face before his bright smile beamed once more.

Her own clothing was in a sorry state, rent in many places and stained with grime and blood. Only the leather over-tunic of Lorien and her elven cloak remained intact. Jon, aware of her plight, made it known quietly among the Rangers, and a spare shirt and trousers were provided with silent gallantry, wrinkled and mended, but quite clean. Rhian dressed carefully to avoid disturbing her bandages, and sat on the low bed that filled most of the alcove, scrubbing the dirt and blood from her leather tunic. It came clean easily, as did her boots, and she found a small phial of oil to rub them with. She set them at the foot of the bed to dry. There was little hope for her other clothes, but she washed them as best she could, laying them on the floor. Jon's voice came from the other side of the curtain. "Rhian? Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course," she said, going to push back the blanket from the opening. The young ranger turned, having carefully kept his back to the curtain, and a relieved smile lit his face. Rhian was mussed and a little damp, but she was clean and there was color in her cheeks now. She looked much different from the desperate young woman of just a short while earlier, but neither did she look like the young woman of that future time, volatile and quick-tongued and teasing. There was an air about her that could not be placed, a new silence and gentleness, and a new quiet strength. And now she looked at once strong and vulnerable, but familiar. 

Rhian blushed beneath his look, made aware that she was in her shirtsleeves, and barefoot. She looked away, and saw Aria sitting against one of the walls, Frodo asleep in her lap. A smile tugged at Rhian's lips, and she looked to the rest of the chamber, where men were setting up tables with quiet efficiency. 

"You will wish to rest a little," Jon said. "I will stay here, if you wish to sleep undisturbed for a while."

Rhian shook her head. "Thank you, but I am awake now." She shifted, wincing at the pain in her ankle. Jon frowned. 

"What is it? Your leg?"

"My ankle. It's only sprained." Rhian stepped back and sat down. 

Jon came and knelt before her. "May I see?" She nodded, and he took her foot in his warm hands. He was careful and gentle, but Rhian still flinched at the pain. Jon took one of the bandages that was left, and wrapped her ankle tightly. Rhian watched curiously as he bound it in place. He stood and offered her a hand. She let him help her up, gingerly putting weight on her foot. Jon watched her face carefully.

"Better?"

"Much," Rhian smiled. "Thank you. Did you learn that from the rangers?"

Jon grinned and shook his head. "No. The boy scouts."

Rhian's merry laughter echoed through the chamber. Many of the dark, silent men turned with wonder at the sound, and hard faces relaxed in to slight smiles. Rhian sat again, taking up her wooden comb. Jon sat in the doorway, watching as she worked the knots from her long black hair. They spoke in soft voices as Rhian told him more of what had passed since she came to Middle-Earth, and he told her in full how he came to be among the Rangers.

"I woke here, below the falls of Henneth Annun. I thought I was dreaming. The Captain was in Ithilien on an errand, and it is well that he was. The orders of the Steward of Gondor are that any man who comes to the land of Ithilien without leave are to be slain, but Faramir has no love of killing. He had me spared, and took me captive instead. But I could tell him nothing- his questions made no sense to me. I had no idea what country I was in, or who Sauron was. I could not claim allegiance to anyone. 

"I thought he might decide I was mad, and have me killed in the end after all, but no one had seen me come to the bowl of Henneth Annun, and that should have been impossible. And there were no tracks that could have been made by me anywhere. So the Captain, against his logic, perhaps, believed me. But still he tested me for a full six days before he was satisfied in his conscience. I gave the best account of myself that I could, but I was still bewildered." Jon smiled faintly. "Faramir made me a Ranger of Ithilien, and took my oath of loyalty. He seemed guided by some foresight- I have learned since that he has clear sight and is often given knowledge denied other men. But he concealed my presence from his father, Denethor, who from what I have been told would not have hesitated to put me to death. He left me here with the small company of Rangers that patrol these forests, and they taught me woodcraft, and have done their best to teach me the sword. The bow I knew a little of already, but even that is far lacking by their standards."

"The life of a Ranger suits you," Rhian said. She looked over her cousin as he sat in the light of the doorway, and she spoke truly. His handsome face was tanned and ruddy, and there was new muscle on his tall body. His dark curls had grown out in to an unruly mass that brushed his collar and fell over his forehead, streaked with golden highlights from the sun. But there were deeper alterations in him. He moved softly and with more grace, and some of the nobility of the Men of Gondor was crept in to his speech. His dark eyes, always warm with humor and kindness, had a new spark of quiet strength. Rhian remembered feeling that Jonathan was innately honorable and chivalrous, like his father, but those qualities shone out of him now, unhampered by the modern world. Rhian smiled with pleasure, glad to be with her cousin again. She began braiding her hair, her arms twisted up behind her head. 

"Here," Jon said, coming to her. "Let me." Rhian let him take the long strands from her and set her hands in her lap as he began the braid over again.

"You braid hair?" she asked.

Jon chuckled behind her. "Another of my hidden talents."

"They teach hair braiding in boy scouts?"

"Heh. No- my mother had long hair." His hands paused, tangled in the heavy black locks, and Rhian reached blindly behind her to touch his arm. Of course. Jon's mother had died when he was young, years before Bryan had married Aunt Lianne.

"I'm sorry," she said. Jon began braiding again. 

"It's all right. It's just--I hadn't thought about her since I came here. The past just seemed to fade and grow far away. I called myself Baran in my own thoughts, as well."

"It is a good name for you," Rhian said. She was quiet as he finished the braid, tying it neatly with a bit of cord. The smooth plait rested along her spine, and Rhian twisted around to look at Jon. He looked quiet and pensive, but smiled as she turned. She reached out and touched his face. "I am glad we were found by you, Baran," she said. 

He smiled at her, and then frowned suddenly and caught her chin in his palm, studying her face closely.

"What is it?" Rhian asked.

"Your eyes," he said slowly. "They used to be green." His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone as he bent over her. 

Rhian, staring up in to his eyes, saw them change from dark chocolate to a warm, tawny golden-brown as he tilted his head. "What- what are they now?"

"Grey," Jon said softly. "Like the sky before a storm."

Rhian stared at him wonderingly, and he blushed, bowing his head and turning away as one of the Rangers came to summon them. Jon went to wash in one of the basins set out along the walls, and Rhian looked to her appearance. She was unwilling to go barefoot, even to such a rough table as this, or to have her shirt billowing around her. It was comfortable, and she reveled in the sheer cleanliness of it, but it made her feel half dressed. In the end, since her boots were still damp, she found a pair of socks buried in the depths of her pack, and wore her belt over the shirt, cinching it in around her waist. She paused over her dagger, but decided to wear it while leaving her sword in the alcove. 

Jon returned and offered her his arm, his face grave but his eyes sparkling. Rhian grinned at him as he led her to a seat at Faramir's table. The hobbits were given seats on barrels padded with furs to raise them to a suitable height. Rhian smiled at this consideration, and at the glowing look of happiness on Aria's face. Before they sat, all the men of Ithilien turned westward gravely for a moment of silence. Rhian and the hobbits did likewise. 

"So we always do," Faramir said, as they sat down. "We look towards Numenor that was, and beyond to the Elvenhome that is, and to that which is beyond Elvenhome and will ever be. Have you no such custom at meat?"

"In my own time," Rhian said, "it is custom to ask a blessing before meals."

"A blessing? From whom?"

Rhian paused. "From Eru," she said, remembering her lore. "And from the Valar, though that is not what we called them."

Faramir nodded. "That we do also," he said, "but it is left to each man for himself."

After so long journeying and camping, and days spent in the lonely wild, the evening meal seemed like a feast; to drink pale yellow wine, cool and fragrant, and eat bread and butter, and salted meats, and dried fruits, and good red cheese, with clean hands and clean knives and plates--Rhian felt glad and easy of heart as she had not felt since leaving Lorien. The talk was merry, as the men vied for Aria's attention, and for her own, though with more restraint--Aria reminded many of them of sisters or sweethearts left behind when they came to serve their Captain, and though Frodo made clear his claim many of them seemed quite taken with her. Rhian was treated with a little more deference, but she was content for it to be so. Jon was a comfortable presence by her side, and the wine coursed through her veins, and she was glad to see Aria full of sunshine again. 

When all was done Faramir led Frodo and Sam to a recess at the back of the cave, partly screened by curtains; but Rhian and Aria were waylaid by a group of Rangers, who requested a song. They were seated on low benches and furs spread on the floor of the cave, and Aria gladly obliged, singing in her sweet, high voice. Rhian drowsed, leaning back unconsciously against Jonathan's shoulder. His arm came up around her waist to steady her. 

When Aria's song was ended, the Rangers had many questions, and Rhian roused a little to hear the answers. Seeing her sit up, one of the Rangers shyly asked if she did indeed carry a harp, and if she could play. The harp of Lorien was fetched, and Rhian drew it from its case and nestled it against her shoulder. She tightened the strings and paused, thinking. Her fingers wandered over the strings, producing soft chords that slowly resolved themselves into a melody. She sang all the verses of _Greensleeves_ to them, thinking of the green garb of the Rangers, and finished with a rippling chord. 

Murmurs of pleasure went through the knot of Rangers, and Rhian rose up on her knees to give them a small bow. They coaxed a few more songs from her, but the playing made her wounded arm ache, and after a little while she returned the harp to its case. She had just set it aside when there was a clatter from the alcove. 

Rhian twisted around to see that Sam had overturned his stool and the two hobbits were on their feet with their backs to the wall. Faramir stood over them, a strange expression on his face. Rhian leaped to her feet, her hand going to her dagger as she pivoted. She had forgotten her ankle. It gave under her weight and she would have fallen if Jon had not leaped up behind her, catching her waist even as she turned. The movement caught Faramir's eye and he glanced at her. She was very pale and still. 

Before any word could be spoken, Aria ducked out of the circle of Rangers and ran to Frodo's side. The hobbit boy put a protective arm around her, and she looked up at Faramir questioningly. Faramir sat down again in his chair and began to laugh quietly, and then suddenly became grave. Rhian, on Jon's arm, came near to hear him speak. 

"Alas for Boromir!" the Captain said. "It was too sore a trial. How you have increased my sorrow, you two strange wanderers from a far country, bearing the peril of Men! But you are less judges of Men than I of Halflings. We are truth-speakers, we men of Gondor. We boast seldom, and then perform, or die in the attempt. _Not if I found it on the highway would I take it_, I said. Even if I were such a man as to desire this thing, and even though I knew not clearly what this thing was when I spoke, still I should take those words as a vow, and be held by them. But I am not such a man. Or else I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee. Sit at peace! And be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so. Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes. For strange though ti may seem, it was safe to declare this to me. It may even help the master you love. It shall turn to his good, if it is in my power. So be comforted. But do not even name this thing aloud again. Once is enough."

The hobbits went back to their seats very quietly, Sam righting his stool with a shamed look on his face. Aria stood behind Frodo with her hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to clasp it. Men turned back to their drink and their talk, perceiving that their captain had had some jest or other with the little guests, and that it was over. 

"Well, Frodo, now at last we understand each other," Faramir said. "If you took this thing on yourself, unwilling, at others' asking, then you have pity and honor from me. And I marvel at you: to keep it hid and not to use it. You are a new people and a new world to me. Are all your kin of like sort? Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there must gardeners be in high honor."

"Not all is well there," said Frodo, "but certainly gardeners are honored." 

Faramir smiled. "But folk must tire there still, and you are far from home and way worn. No more tonight. Sleep--in peace, if you can. Fear not! I do not wish to see it, or touch it, or know more of it than I know now, which is enough. Go now to rest, but first tell me only, if you will, where you wish to go, and what to do. I must watch, and wait, and think. Time passes. In the morning we must each go swiftly on the ways appointed to us."

Faramir's words brought Rhian up short. She no longer felt the tug of destiny below her breastbone. What way was she to go? There was no chance for her to think on it, though, for even as Frodo told Faramir of his quest in Mordor the hobbit swayed, and Faramir caught him gently and lifted him. 

"Frodo!" Aria exclaimed, but Faramir shook his head. 

"He is only weary, I think," the captain said, and carried Frodo to the bed, laying him down there. Aria covered him warmly, smoothing the hair back from his forehead and humming softly before slipping away. Another bed was set nearby for Sam, as Aria came back to open area of the cave. The Rangers respectfully asked after the health of the little guest, and begged if she would speak with them a little more. 

Jon had guided Rhian back to sit on the furs near the cluster of Rangers that still sat, talking quietly. She let him ease her down, preoccupied with her thoughts, her face pensive. She did not listen to the talk around her now, but let it wash over her.

"Are you all right?" Jon asked softly. Rhian started.

"Yes," she said. She suddenly felt her weariness overcoming her, and sagged back against Jon's supporting hold. "I'm fine," she murmured. Her eyes closed slowly, and Jon shifted to settle her more comfortable against his chest. 

When Faramir passed by some time later, it was to see Baran sitting in the light of the guttering torches, Rhian nestled asleep against him. Aria was curled up asleep on the furs nearby, the young Ranger having driven the others away so that she might sleep. Baran looked up at his captain silently. Rhian was warm in his arms, her dark head tucked neatly beneath his chin. Faramir touched his shoulder in understanding, and turned away to cover the sleeping hobbit girl. 

Rhian mumbled in protest as Baran shifted her, slipping his arm beneath her knees. He lifted her carefully and carried her to bed, laying her softly among the blankets. She moaned and pressed her face in to the pillow. Baran tucked the blankets around her gently. He sat back on his heels to look at her. The faint light played across her face, troubled even in sleep. Baran touched her cheek lightly, then bent and brushed his lips over her forehead. 

"It's all right, _cariad_," he murmured. 

Faramir met Baran outside of the alcove. 

"You will sleep here tonight?"

Baran nodded. "That was my intent. I am not one to expose other men to temptation."

Faramir clasped his shoulder briefly, and then went to answer the summons of Anborn at the passage out of the cave. 


	31. A Timeline and Farewell

I owe anyone who is reading this an apology. It has been years since I touched this fic, and while I would _like_ to come back and finish it I doubt I ever will. But I didn't really want to come out and say 'sorry folks, this story has officially been abandoned', so I just left it dangling out in the ether. I apologize for that. It may be to late for anyone who actually read this story to see this, but I offer up my heartfelt thanks for your support and many wonderful reviews, all of you. I'm sorry we never finished our journey together. But, for anyone still around who would like to know how the story _ends_, here is the timeline I compiled two and a half years ago, detailing the events of BtS (the last chapter covers the events of March 2 and March 8), as well as a scene I wrote in advance, before I reached the chapter it belonged to.

Thank you! Cookies and gift baskets to you all!

Kathryn Angelle

October 24 Frodo wakes in Rivendell. Boromir arrives in Rivendell in the night.

October 25 Council of Elrond

October 30 Aria arrives in Rivendell, and Frodo slays her attacker.

December 6 The body of Aria's attacker is discovered, and Aria suffers an emotional break-down. Rhian, Erin, and Rosie arrive in Rivendell. Jonathan arrives at Henneth Annun. Bryan arrives outside Edoras, but falls and is knocked unconscious.

December 8 Gandalf calls a meeting in Rivendell to discuss Rhian, Erin, Rosie, and Aria

December 10 Bryan wakes in Meduseld in the care of the king's niece, Eowyn. He has no memory of his identity except his name.

December 12 Faramir has mercy on Jonathan and makes him a Ranger of Ithilien. He conceals Jonathan's presence from his father Denethor, who would have had him put to death.

December 18 Erin falls in love with Legolas of Mirkwood

December 20 Bryan is recovered but still without memory, and takes service in the guard of Theoden King. In Rivendell Aria learns of Frodo's Quest. Lianne, Rhian and Erin's aunt, arrives in Minas Tirith and is taken to the Houses of Healing.

December 23 Rhian is allowed to join the Company of the Ring.

December 25 The Company of the Rings leaves Rivendell. Aria and Erin, with the aid of Arwen, follow them in the night.

December 29 Aria and Erin join the Fellowship

January 9 Erin learns of Legolas' love for Aria

January 11-12 Snow on Caradhras

January 13 The Fellowship reaches the gate of Moria at nightfall. Gollum begins to trail the Ringbearer.

January 14 Night in Hall Twenty-one

January 15 The Bridge of Khazad-dum, and the fall of Gandalf. Rhian is wounded. The Company reaches the Nimrodel late at night.

Janurary 17 The Company comes to Caras Galadon at evening. Erin overhears a conversation between Legolas and Gimli.

January 18 Aria learns of Gandalf's fall and grieves.

February 14 The Mirror of Galadriel.

February 15 Galadriel questions Rhian, Erin, and Aria, learning of Aria's love for Frodo, Legolas' love for Aria, and Erin's love for Legolas.

February 16 Farewell to Lorien. Gollum in hiding on the west bank observes the departure.

February 23 The boats are attacked at night near Sarn Gebir. Legolas fells the steed of a Nazgul.

February 25 The Company pass the Argonath and camp at Parth Galen. Boromir urges Rhian to go with him to Minas Tirith. In Rohan Bryan is wounded at the First Battle of the Fords of Isen; Theodred son of Theoden is slain.

February 26 The Breaking of the Fellowship. Death of Boromir. Merry, Pippin, and Erin are captured by orcs. Frodo and Samwise enter the eastern Emyn Muil. Rhian and Aria follow slowly. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli set the funeral boat of Boromir afloat and set out in pursuit of the orcs at evening. Eomer of Rohan hears of the descent of the orc-band from the Emyn Muil.

February 27 Aragorn reaches the west-cliff at sunrise. Eomer against Theoden's orders sets out from the Eastfold about midnight to pursue the orcs. Bryan is left behind and charged with the welfare of the lady Eowyn.

February 28 Eomer overtakes the orcs just outside Fangorn Forest.

February 29 Merry and Pippin escape in to Fangorn Forest and meet Treebeard. The Rohirrim attack at sunrise and destroy the orcs. Erin is rescued by Eomer and sent with an escort to Edoras. Frodo and Sam descend from Emyn Muil and meet Gollum. Faramir see the funeral boat of Boromir.

February 30 Entmoot begins. Eomer returning to Edoras the long way meets Aragorn and gives him tidings of Erin. Rhian and Aria descend from Emyn Muil.

March 1 Frodo begins the passage of the Dead Marshes at dawn. Entmoot continues. Aragorn meets Gandalf the White. They set out for Edoras. Faramir leaves Minas Tirith on an errand to Ithilien. Rhian and Aria reach the Dead Marshes some hours after Frodo and set out to go around them. Erin reaches Edoras; her escort is attacked and she is taken prisoner by Wormtongue.

March 2 Frodo comes to the end of the Marshes. Erin wounds Wormtongue at dawn. Gandalf comes to Edoras and heals Theoden; Erin is freed, but collapses with a fever. The Rohirrim ride west against Saruman. Second Battle of Fords of Isen. Erkenbrand defeated. Entmoot ends in the afternoon. The Ents march on Isengard and reach it at night.

March 3 Theoden retreats to Helm's Deep. Battle of the Hornburg begins. Erin goes with Eowyn and the people of Rohan to Dunharrow. Ents complete the destruction of Isengard.

March 4 Theoden and Gandalf set out from Helm's Deep for Isengard. Frodo reaches the slag-mounds on the edge of the Desolation of the Morannon. Rhian and Aria leave the Dead Marshes.

March 5 Theoden reaches Isengard at noon. Parley with Saruman in Orthanc. Winged Nazgul passes over the Camp at Dol Baran. Gandalf sets out with Pippin for Minas Tirith. Frodo hides in sight of the Morannon, and leaves at dark.

March 6 Aragorn overtaken by the Dunedain in the early hours. Theoden sets out from the Hornburg for Harrowdale. Aragorn sets out later. Rhian and Aria enter the forests of Ithilien and find Frodo's trail.

March 7 Faramir takes Frodo prisoner. Rhian and Aria attacked by Southrons; Rhian is wounded. Jonathan with the Rangers of Ithilien comes to their aid and takes them to Faramir. Faramir takes Rhian, Aria, Frodo, and Sam to Henneth Annun. Aragorn comes to Dunharrow at nightfall. Legolas seeks to comfort Erin. Rhian is troubled by dreams of her sister and wakes during the night.

March 8 Aragorn takes the Paths of the Dead at daybreak; he reaches Erech at midnight. Legolas' parting from Erin is bitter; he promises to seek her after the battle. Frodo leaves Henneth Annun and Aria goes with him. Troubled by Rhian's dreams, Faramir leaves Henneth Annun in the evening, taking Jonathan and Rhian with him.

March 9 Gandalf reaches the North Gate of Minas Tirith before dawn and meets Faramir with Jonathan and Rhian. Rhian is given tidings of her sister, and rides with Jonathan and Hirgon to deliver the Red Arrow to Theoden; they leave as dawn breaks. Aragorn sets out from Erech and comes to Calembel. At dusk Frodo reaches the Morgul-road. Theoden comes to Dunharrow; Merry greets Erin. Darkness begins to flow out of Mordor. Rhian and Jonathan reach Rohan late in the night. Rhian, Erin, Jonathan, and Bryan are reunited.

March 10 The Dawnless Day. The Muster of Rohan: The Rohirrim ride from Harrowdale; Rhian, Jonathan, and Bryan go with them. Erin remains behind. Aragorn crosses Ringlo. An army from the Morannon takes Cair Andros and passes into Anorien. Frodo passes the Cross Roads, and sees the Morgul-host set forth.

March 11 Gollum visits Shelob, but seeing Frodo asleep nearly repents. Denethor sends Faramir to Osgiliath. Aragorn reaches Linhir and crosses into Lebennin. Eastern Rohan is invaded from the north. First assault on Lorien.

March 12 Gollum leads Frodo in to Shelob's lair. Faramir retreats to the Causeway Forts. Theoden camps under Minrimmon. Aragorn drives the enemy towards Pelargir. The Ents destroy the invaders of Rohan.

March 13 Frodo and Aria are captured by the Orcs of Cirith Ungol. The Pelennor is overrun. Faramir is wounded. Aragorn reaches Pelargir and captures the fleet. Theoden in Druadan Forest.

March 14 Samwise finds Frodo and Aria in the Tower. Minas Tirith is besieged. The Rohirrem led by the wild men come to the Grey Wood.

March 15 In the early hours the Witch King breaks the Gates of Minas Tirith. Denethor burns himself on a pyre. The horns of the Rohirrim are heard at cockcrow. Battle of the Pelennor. Theoden is slain. Eowyn, Merry, and Rhian are wounded. Jonathan finds Rhian and takes her to the Houses of Healing. Bryan follows them; Bryan, Jonathan, and Lianne are reunited in the Houses. Aragorn raises the standard of Arwen. Frodo, Sam, and Aria escape and begin their journey north along the Morgai. Battle under the trees in Mirkwood; Thranduil repels the forces of Dol Guldur. Second assault on Lorien.

March 16 Debate of the commanders. Frodo from the Morgai looks out over the camp to Mount Doom.

March 17 Battle of Dale. King Brand and King Dain Ironfoot fall. Many dwarves and Men take refuge in Erebor and are besieged. Shagrat brings Frodo's cloak, mail-shirt, and sword to Barad-dur.

March 18 The Host of the West marches from Minas Tirith. Jonathan rides with them, but promises Rhian he will return. Frodo comes in sight of the Isenmouthe: he is overtaken by Orcs on the road from Durthang to Udun.

March 19 The Host comes to Morgul-vale. Frodo and Samwise escape and begin their journey along the Barad-dur.

March 20 Eowyn rises from her sick bed and is taken to Faramir. Rhian and Merry are called to Faramir to tell him what they know of her.

March 21 Faramir calls Eowyn down from the walls and they walk together; Rhian witnesses their meeting and is glad.

March 22 The dreadful nightfall. Frodo, Aria and Sam leave the road and turn south Mount Doom. Third assault on Lorien.

March 23 The Host passes out of Ithilien. Aragorn dismisses the faint-hearted. Frodo and Sam cast away their arms and gear.

March 24 Frodo and Sam make their last journey to the feet of Mount Doom. The Host camps on the Desolation of the Morannon.

March 25 The Host is surrounded on the Slag-hills. Frodo and Sam reach the Sammath Naur. Aria wrests the Ring from Frodo and is believed to be perished in the fire. Frodo and Sam are rescued by Gandalf and the Eagles. Downfall of Barad-dur and passing of Sauron. Eowyn and Faramir stand together on the walls of Minas Tirith.

March 26 An Eagle brings the wounded Aria to Lorien, where she is tended by Galadriel.

March 30 Rhian, Lianne and Merry go with the wains to the Field of Cormallen. The Eagles bear tidings to Rohan, and Erin sets out for Cormallen from Dunharrow, escorted by Bardhelm the Young.

April 2 Rhian and Jonathan are reunited and plight their troth.

April 6 Faramir professes his love to Eowyn

April 7 Erin comes to Cormallen and is reunited with Rhian, Jonathan, Bryan, Lianne,

April 8 The Ringbearers are honoured on the Field of Cormallen.

May 1 Crowning of King Elessar. Elrond and Arwen set out from Rivendell, bringing Rosie (now seven years old) with them.

May 8 Eomer and Eowyn depart for Rohan with the sons of Elrond. Bryan and Lianne go with them (Bryan is still in the service of the Mark). Rhian, Jonathan, and Erin remain in Minas Tirith.

May 20 Elrond and Arwen come to Lorien with Rosie, where Elrond lends his aid to the healing of Aria.

May 27 The Escort of Arwen leaves Lorien, bringing Aria with them.

June 14 The sons of Elrond meet the Escort and bring Arwen to Edoras. Rosie is reunited with Bryan and Lianne.

June 16 The Escort of Arwen sets out from Edoras for Gondor; Bryan, Lianne, and Rosie travel with them.

June 25 King Elessar finds the sapling of the White Tree.

1 Lithe Arwen comes to the City.

Mid-Year's Day Wedding of Elessar and Arwen. Rhian, Erin, Jonathan, Bryan, Lianne, Rosie, and Aria are gathered to the Valar and given a choice. All choose to remain in Middle Earth. Aria and Frodo are reunited. Legolas finds Erin walking alone and pledges his love to her.

July 18 Eomer returns to Minas Tirith.

July 19 The funeral escort of King Theoden sets out. Rhian, Jonathan, Erin, Bryan, Lianne, and Rosie go with them.

August 7 The funeral escort comes to Edoras.

August 10 Funeral of King Theoden. Faramir and Eowyn plight their troth.

August 14 The guests take leave of King Eomer. Bryan, Lianne, and Rosie remain in Edoras and make their home there. Rhian, Jonathan, and Erin continue on, but Jonathan pledges to return to Ithilien and give his service to Faramir.

August 18 The Company comes to Helm's Deep.

August 22 The Company comes to Isengard; they take leave of the King of the West at sunset.

August 28 They overtake Saruman and Wormtongue; Erin forgives Wormtongue. Saruman is slain by Grima- Legolas shoots him. The Company sees to his burial.

September 6 They halt in sight of the Mountains of Moria.

September 13 Celeborn and Galadriel depart, the others set out for Rivendell.

September 21 The Company returns to Rivendell.

September 22 The one hundred and twenty-ninth birthday of Bilbo.

October 5 Gandalf and the Hobbits leave Rivendell.

October 6 They cross the Ford of Bruinen; Frodo feels the first return of pain, but Aria's presence comforts him.

October 28 They reach Bree at nightfall.

October 30 They leave Bree. The Travellers come to Bandywine Bridge in the dark.

AN: This was to be a pivotal scene, in which Legolas begins to realize just how dear Erin has come to be to him.

Erin stood in the sunlight, a pale, slender figure- so pale and so still that Legolas felt he hardly knew her.

The stained white gown that covered her moved in the same breeze that stirred her hair, long golden strands swirling unbound about her shoulders, brushing softly against her bruised cheek. Her eyes seemed less the brilliant blue of sky, and more the cold iciness of a frozen winter sea, staring silent and emotionless at the Lord of the Mark, where he stood before his hall.

"Is this true, Grima?" said Theoden.

The groveling figure muttered, searching for words, but Erin's voice cut through his whimperings like a knife- a white knife of ice.

"My lord," she said softly, "have you not noticed how your servant favors his left side?"

It was true. At her words Grima tried to straighten, but hunched again immediately with a wince. The king nodded to one of his guards, who grasped Wormtongue's arm and put a hand to his robe, finding the ragged, bloody bandage beneath. Grima hissed, like a snake.

"So," said Eomer, "you are worse scum than even I guessed-" His hand, like the hands of all other men there, had gone to his sword, and Legolas, who was swifter, had drawn already his white dagger and stepped between Erin and the groveling Wormtongue. But Gandalf lifted a staying hand.

"Nay, Eomer, you do not full understand the mind of Master Wormtongue. He is bold and cunning. Even now he plays a game with peril and wins a throw, but he did not count that one woman might foil his toss. Hours of my precious time he has wasted already. Down snake!" he said suddenly in a terrible voice, and Grima cringed and shrank back against the ground. Legolas looked to Erin, but she had not moved. "Down on your belly!" Gandalf commanded. "How long is it since Saruman bought you? What was the promised price? When all the men were dead, you were to pick your share of the treasure, and take the woman you desire? Too long have you watched her under your eyelids and haunted her steps!"

Eomer stepped forward now, his knuckles white on his sword. "This I knew already," he said. "For that reason I would have slain him before, forgetting the law of the hall. Would that I had-" and his eyes went to Erin as he made to draw his blade, but again Gandalf stayed his hand.

"Eowyn is safe, now," he said, "as is Erin."

...and you know how the scene goes from there. I shall, of course, need to rework a good bit of dialogue and make Gandalf less lenient toward Wormtongue, but that's the gist of it. Skip forward a bit to where Grima is gone (run off, or possibly dead, if I decide to kill him, which I might- more on that later); this has nothing to do with my continuity problem, but I thought you should very much like to see it;

Legolas at last moved to sheath his knife, and suddenly Erin seemed to crumple gently- like a length of fabric that is both dropped to the ground and caught in a breeze. He stepped forward to catch her, kneeling as he took her weight into his arms, and she lay still against his shoulder. Quickly he unclasped his cloak and draped it around her, covering the gown, stained with Grima's blood.

"She needs rest," Gandalf said gently, "and care. But in time she will be well- sooner, perhaps, than any of us would think possible." Legolas nodded, still looking down into Erin's still face, and stood carefully, lifting her against his chest like a child.


End file.
